-•uls    XI 
Caaimer   Delavlgne 


AT   LOS  ANGELES 


LOUIS    XI, 


Historical  I)rama 


THREE     ACTS 


[ADAPTED  FROM  CASIMER/DELAVIGNE.] 


W.    E.    MAKKWELL,    ESQ., 

AUTHOR  OP 

"Amy  Robsart"  "The  Spirits  of  the  Night,"  "York  Hoses," 

"Faust  and  Margaret,"  "'Tit  an  111  Wind  that 

Slows  Nobody  Good,"  etc.,  etc.,  etc.* 


NEW  YORK 
SAMUEL  FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30  WEST  38TH  STREET 


LONDON 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  LTD. 

26  SOUTHAMPTON  STREET, 

STRAND 


LOUIS  XI. 


LOUIS  XI MR.  HENRY  IRVING 

THE  DAUPHIN • MR.  A.   ANDREWS 

DUKE  DE  NEMOURS MR.   TERRISS 

PHILIP  DE  COMMINES MR.  HARBURY- 

JACQUES  COITIER MR.  T.  WENMAN 

TRISTAN  L'ERMITE MR.  TYARS 

OLIVER  DE  DAIN MR.  ARCHER 

FRANCOIS  DE   PAULE .' MR.    T.  MEAD 

CARDINAL  D'ALBY MR.  HEMSLEY 

COUNT  DE  DREUX MR.  LOUTHER 

MONTJOIE MR.  LYNDALL 

MONSEIGNEUR  DE  LUDE MR.  DWYER 

THE  COUNT  DE  DUNOIS MR.  UARION 

MARCEL MR.  JOHNSON 

RICHARD MR  HARVEY 

niBIER MR.  EPITAUX 

OFFICER  OF  THE  ROYAL  GUARD MR.  HARWOOD 

TOIPON  D'OR MR.  SIMPSON 

KING'S  ATTENDANT MR.    CLIFFORD 

MARIE Miss  MILL  WARD 

JEANNE Miss  HARWOOD 

MARTHA Miss  PAYNE 

French  and  Burgundian  Lords,  Guards,  Bishops,  Priests, 
Peasants,  and  Pages. 


pa 


LOUIS    XI. 


ACT  FIRST. 

SCENE  FIRST.—  A  landscape.  The  Chateau  of  Plessis-les- 
Tours  at  back,  L.  u.  E.  Drawbridge  raised,  &c, — some  scat- 
tered cottages,  R. — Night. 

Two  SENTINELS  discovered.  Pause — SCOTCH  GUARDS  enter  and 
relieve  GUARD. 

Enter  TRISTAN,  L.  ,  with  FOUR  SOLDIERS,  meeting  RICHARD,  R. 

TRISTAN,   (to  RICHARD)  Your  name  ? 
RICHARD.  The  herdsman,  Richard. 

TRISTAN.    Out  after  nightfall  ?     'Tis  against  the  king's 
command. 

RICHARD.  I  know  it,  but — 
TRISTAN.  Back,  I  say  ! 
RICHARD.  My  son  is— 
TRISTAN.  Away  ! 
I       RICHARD.  Is  dying. 
J^      TRISTAN,   (to  his  GUARDS)  String  me  up  that  fellow  upon 

yonder  oak. 

J       RICHARD,   (terrified)  Tristan  !  Exit,  running,  R. 

\      OFFICER,    (from  platform)  Who  goes  there  ? 
^       TRISTAN.   Grand  Provost. 
OFFICER.  Guards,  alert ! 

TRISTAN'S  GUARDS  go  into  cottages,  B. 

J^Enter  OFFICER  and  SOLDIERS  over  bridge  from  chateau,  L.  u.  D. 
^      OFFICER.  The  watchword  ? 

TRISTAN,   (in  an  under  tone)  Faithful. 

GUARDS  go  off,  R.  u.  E. 
OFFICER,  (in  the  same)  France. 

Exeunt   ALL  to  chateau,  R.  u.  E. — day  breaks. 


409852 


4  LOUIS    XI. 

Enter  COMINE,  holding  a  parchment  roll — he  seats  himself  at 
the  foot  of  oak,  K.  2  E. 

COMINE.  This  work  of  mine  requires  deep  thought  and 
quietude  of  soul.  Blest  calm  !  No  sound  is  wafted  to  mine 
ear,  save  chirping  birds  awaking  to  the  morn,  or  the  hoarse 
challenge  of  yon  Scotch  sentinel  who  walks  the  battlements. 
I'm  now  alone— here  let  me  read.  "Memoirs  of  Comine." 
Ab,  could  Louis  read  this  manuscript — mayhap  in  after 
times  destined  to  live — wherein  day  after  day  is  writ  the 
chronicle  of  France's  shame  and  glory — he  would  shudder 
to  behold  the  gloomy  annals  of  his  strauge  career.  Of  vice 
and  virtue  what  a  motley  group  !  Here,  cowardice— heroic 
valor,  there — here,  mercy — there,  ensanguined  butchery — 
humble  and  proud — how  different  by  turns — courting  the 
mass — o'erbearing  to  the  great — miser  and  spendthrift, 
jealous — all  at  will,  (passes  to  the  tnd  of  his  MS.)  Ah  me  ! 
the  picture  makes  me  shudder  as  I  gaze  !  See,  how  the 
rising  sun  gilds  the  tower  of  yonder  castle — Louis's  living 
tomb — where,  self-immured,  he  struggles  with  inexorable 
death  ! 

Enter  COITIER  jfirom  chateau,  L.  u.  E. 

COITIER.  Ha  !  (crosses  and  comes  down  from  L.  gate)  Good 
morrow,  Sieur  Comine,  (tapping  COMINE  on  the  shoulder) . 

Comine.  (R.)  Ah,  Coitier  !  how  came  you  here  ?  You 
should  be.  beside  the  king,  our  master.  You  are  angry  ! 

COITIER.  A  crime  of  foulest  dye  has  been  committed. 
This  peasant's  son,  who  lies  there  dying,  was  shot  down  by 
one  of  the  Archer  Guard,  to  try  his  new  arquebuss  upon 
him. 

COMINE.   Let  him  complain. 

COITIER.  To  whom  ?  The  king  !  Let  lambs  complain  to 
wolves.  You  complained  once,  and  prayed  and  knelt — do 
you  forget  Nemours  ? 

COMINE.  Nemours  was  guilty. 

COITIER.   You  are  so  to  say  it. 

COMINE.   Coitier — 

COITIER.  I  was  an  humble  vassal,  fed  by  the  bounty  of 
Nemours.  His  home  was  mine — he  thought  that  heaven 
had  given  me  brains — wits — and  so  he  fostered  them  ;  his 
bounty  sent  me  to  the  colleges  of  Paris.  My  studies  pros- 
pered— I  became  renowned.  He  brought  me  to  court — my 
rude  ways  and  manners  ill  suited  with  the  place — men 
thought  me  mad — but  finding  my  skill,  they  called  me 
singular.  The  king  at  length  made  me  his  surgeon,  and  by 
that  title  I  rule  him  who  rules  you  all.  To  Nemours  I  owe 


LOUIS    XI.  5 

everything— yet,  leagued  with  you,  we  could  not  stem  the 
fury  of  the  king  when  he  had  doomed  Nemours  to  death. 
All — all  his  family  fell  before  the  tiger — all  but  one — by 
your  assistance  he  was  saved. 

COMINE.   Coitier  ! 

COITIKR.  By  yours  ! 

COMINE.  For  heaven's  sake,  speak  lower  ! 

CoiTier.  Pity,  then,  but  do  not  reproach  Nemours. 

COMINE.  Listen — Nemours  is  now  with  Charles  of  Bur- 
gundy. When  the  king  dies,  and  Charles  the  Dauphin 
ascends  the  throne,  he  will  be  pardoned. 

COITIER.  (sarcastically)  By  virtue  of  your  daughter's  in- 
fluence with  the  prince  ? 

COMINE.  Marie  ! 

COITIER.  (sarcastically)  Of  course,  you  do  not  see  he  loves 
her? 

COMINE.  Impossible  !  she  is  betrothed  to  Nemours.  From 
childhood  they  have  loved  each  other. 

COITIER.  Would  you  be  convinced  ?  Here  she  comes — 
ask  her. 

Enter  MARIE,  L.  u.  E. 

MARIE,  (crossing  to  c.)  Good  morning,  father  dear — good 
day,  Master  Coitier — what  news — how  fares  the  king  ? 

COITIER.  Your  smiles  prove  sweeter  physic  than  my  drugs, 
and  he  likes  'em  better — in  which  he  is  not  singular. 

MARIE.  You're  a  perfect  courtier,  Sieur  Coitier. 

COITIER.  Well,  you  have  seen  this  pious  man,  Frangois  de 
Paule,  with  whose  renown  all  France  is  rilled — he  is  coming, 
it  seems,  to  cure  my  patient — to  work  a  miracle — to  rean- 
imate the  king.  I'd  like  to  see  him 

MARIE.  What,  do  you  doubt  his  miraculous  power  ? 

COITIER.  (sneering)  Oh,  no  !  But  I'd  rather  see  than  be- 
lieve it. 

MARIE.  How  simple  is  his  mien  !  He  wears  no  mitre 
gemmed  with  pearls — before  him  there  is  borne  no  haughty 
crozier—  but  simply  leaning  on  a  staff,  clad  in  the  coarsest 
robe,  he  is  crowned  by  the  blessings  of  the  poor,  and 
followed  by  the  prayers  of  a  million  simple  but  loving  souls. 

COITTER.  And  how  did  this  anchorite  meet  the  Dauphin 
and  the  court,  who  went  forth  to  welcome  him  ? 

MARIE.  All,  from  their  steeds  alighting,  walked  on  foot  be- 
side him,  while  the  Dauphin  led  the  way  to  Plessis  ;  next, 
feudal  lords  dismounted,  attended  by  their  pages,  rein  in 
hand  ;  next,  damsels  came  mingling  their  gayer  summer 
hues,  which  floated  on  the  breeze  o'er  hill  and  plain. 


<J  LOUIS    XI. 

/ 

The  cross,  too,  lifted  in  the  sunbeam,  shone  ;  and  Louis' 
banners  with  their  fleur-de-lis  in  gold  and  azure  painted. 
Then,  in  front,  young  children  censers  bore,  and  strewed 
fresh  flowers  on  his  path,  while  crowds  thronged  round  to 
beg  his  blessing.  From  Amboise  hither,  all  the  roads  along, 
increasing  hosts  of  followers  swelled  his  train.  Yonder  I 
left  them,  and  hurried  on  to  tell  you  of  his  coming. 

COMINE.  Then  let  us  hasten  to  the  king. 

MARIE.  Father,  a  word. 

COITIER.  I  leave  you,  then.     Farewell. 

Exit  to  castle,  L.  TJ.  E. 

COMINE.  Now  we're  alone,  what  news  ?  I  see  you  have 
a  happy  secret. 

MAKIE.  Guess. 

COMINE.  I  cannot. 

MARIE.  The  Envoy  of  Burgundy  is  here — his  heralds  and 
retinue  fill  our  village. 

COMINE.  His  name  ? 

MARIE.  The  Count  de  Rethel. 

COMINE.  Count  de  Rethel  !  That  house  has  left  no  heira 
to  later  times. 

MARIE.  Mayhap  he  brings  some  tidings  of  an  exiled 
friend. 

COMINE.  Nemours  ? 

MARIE.  Ah,  think  you  so  ?  Who  knows  ?  absence  often 
tempers  love. 

COMINE.  Marie ! 

MARIE.  His  love  is,  can  be,  never  such  as  mine.  Oft  I 
have  tried  to  cheer  his  sinking  soul  ;  but  he  would  smile 
most  bitterly,  as  if  consumed  by  some  deep  grief.  Finding, 
too,  in  my  artless  sympathy  some  comfort,  soon  he  learnt  to 
speak  his  love,  responsive  to  my  own.  Time  lingered  on — 
but  gloomy,  still,  he  fled  society,  the  Court,  its  pleasures, 
and  gay  tournaments.  But  the  name  of  Louis  would  raise 
his  fury,  his  hand  would  clutch  his  poignard,  and  words  of 
death  fester  on  his  lips.  The  Dauphin,  surely  would  for- 
give. 

COMINE.  I  know  the  Dauphin  loves  thy  company — seeks 
it  too  much. 

MARIE.  He  is  but  a  boy. 

COMINE.  A  boy  that  must,  one  day,  be  King  of  France. 

MARIE.  But,  father,  'tis  a  foolish  child. 

COMINE.  Enough,  avoid  him,  check  his  freedom — there 
is  danger  in  it.  (murmurs  and  distant  trumpet,  R.) 

MARIE.  I  obey. 

COMINE.  Hark  !  do  you  hear  the   crowd  ?  (looking  lacTc) 


LOUIS   XI.  7 

They  fill  the  wood  —  they  come  —  the  cavalcade  descends  the 
hill.  Exeunt  L. 

Music.—  Enter  FRANCOIS  DE  PAULE  tlie  DAUPHIN,  RICHARD, 
MARCEL,  MARTHA,  DIDIER,  PRIESTS,  and  FRENCH 
KNIGHTS,  LADIES,  and  PEASANTS,  B.  u.  E.  —  music 


FRANCOIS  (R.  c.)  Prince,  let  me  speak  to  these  poor  peas- 
ants, for  my  cares  are  due  to  high  and  low  alike. 

DAUPHIN.  As  you  will,  good  father,  (crosses  to  L.)  We 
go  to  announce  your  coming  to  the  King,  (to  his  SUITE) 
Follow,  sirs.  Exeunt  DAUPHIN  and  SUITE  to  chateau,  L.  u.  E. 

RICHARD,  (crossing  to  FRANCOIS)  Pray  enter  'neath  my 
roof,  most  rev'rend  Priest,  and  give  my  son  his  sight. 

FRANCOIS.  I  am  but  a  man,  like  you  and  yours  ;  besides, 
my  body's  bent  with  years  —  my  hair's  all  blanch'd  ;  and 
seeing  this,  you'll  judge  how  little  I  can  do  for  you.  As 
man,  I  sympathize  with  human  woes,  and  old  myself,  I  pity 
age's  ills.  Learn  how  to  endure  them,  there's  the  antidote. 
Leave  me,  my  friends,  and  soon  my  prayers  shall  mingle 
with  your  own. 

RICHARD,  (to  MARCEL)  Had  I  been  a  count  or  duke  he 
would  have  healed  my  son. 

MARCEL,  (to  RICHARD)  Ay,  brought  him  back  to  life. 
He'll  cure  the  King. 

RICHARD.  Ay,  by  to-morrow,  too. 

MARCEL.     But  peasants  are  not  worth  a  miracle. 

Exeunt  LADIES  and  PEASANTS,  L.  1  E. 

Trumpet  —  Enter    NEMOURS  and   BURGUNDIAN  KNIGHTS, 
R.  u.  E. 

NEMOURS,  (to  his  SUITE)  Gentlemen,  I  pray  you  precede 
me  to  the  castle.  Exeunt  KNIGHTS  to  chateau,  L.  u.  E. 

FRANCOIS.     Approach,  my  son. 

NEMOURS.  Are  we  alone  ? 

FRANCOIS.   Secret  from  all,  but  heaven  ! 

NEMOURS.  Father,  thou  hast  the  ear  of  heaven. 

FRANCOIS.  It  is  open  to  all. 

NEMOURS.  Pray  for  me. 

FRANCOIS.  For  what  —  thy  life  !  thou  art  still  young. 

NEMOURS.  But  death  is  everywhere. 

FRANCOIS.  Youth  deems  it  distant  —  it  is  full  of  hope. 

NEMOURS.  And  full  of  daring,  too  —  so  still  more  need  for 
fear. 

FRANCOIS.  Thy  purpose  ? 


8  LOUIS    XI. 

NEMOTTRS.  Martyrdom. 

FRANCOIS.  Speak  ! 

NEMOURS.  I  may  not. 

FRANCOIS.  You  contemplate  some  fatal  plan 

NEMOURS.  1  but  obey. 

FRANCOIS.  Whose  bidding  ? 

NEMOURS.  That  of  heaven,  crying  for  vengeance  and  for 
blood. 

FRANCOIS.  Blood  ! 

NEMOURS.  Will  heaven  oe  complice  of  unshriven  crimes  ? 

FRANCOIS.  His  goodness  waits,  but  still  the  reckoning 
comes — though  late,  yet  sure. 

NEMOURS.   Curse  the  assassin  who  must  die  the  death. 

FRANCOIS.  Servant  of  Him  who  died  to  pardon  man,  I 
know  not  how  to  curse. 

NEMOURS,   (kneels)  Then  bless  me. 

FRANCOIS.  Bless  thee,  my  son  ! — my  prayers  go  with  thee, 
and  may  they  guide  thee  well — we  shall  meet  again  here- 
after—farewell !  Exit  L.  2  E. 

NEMOURS,  (rises)  Ay,  I  shall  precede  thee  there.  Go, 
shrive  the  King — do  thine  office — his  body  perish,  that's  my 
care — look  to  his  soul,  that  is  thine.  Now  to  beard  this 
French  wolf  in  his  lair.  Exit  over  bridge,  L.  u.  E. 


SCENE  SECOND.— A  Room  in  the  Chateau  of  Plessis-les- 
Tours.     The  throne  c.,  door  R.  c. 

MARIE  alone,  near  a  table,  arranging  flowers  taken  from  a  vase. 

MARIE.  First,  sacred  box,  then  oak  leaves  I'll  entwine  ; 
then  these  wild  roses,  lilies,  briers,  too,  of  fragrant  scentf 
Here's  ivy  from  the  tombs — No,  that  will  scarcely  suit  a 
sick  man's  taste,  for  'twould  remind  him  of  his  coming 
death — some  flower  of  happier  omen  I  must  find  to  place 
near  France's  royal  fleur-de-lis. 

Enter  the  DAUPHIN,  L.  1  E. 

DAUPHIN.  At  length,  Marie,  we  meet  again. 
MARIE,   (jpassing  him)    Pardon,  my  lord. 
DAUPHIN.  What,  leave  me  ? 

MARIE.  The  King  has  sent  me  to  the  chapel  of  our  Lady, 
in  the  wood,  to  give  the  order  for  a  festival  to-night. 
DAUPHIN.  Let's  go  together. 
MARIE.  Alone,  I'll  make  more  speed.     An  offering  to  our 


LOUIS    XI.  9 

Lady  of  Embrun,  I  bear  -with  me  to  deck  her  festival  ;  and 
thither  on  a  similar  errand  bent,  our  King  himself  repairs 
to  ask  her  aid. 

DAUPHIN.  Now  mark  how  fickle-minded  is  the  King  ; — 
this  morn  he  meant  to  have  started  in  the  park  his  favorite 
hounds,  that  he  himself  has  trained.  He  purposed,  too,  to- 
morrow, to  go  forth  and  fly  his  golden  falcon — watch  it 
pounce  upon  its  quarry  ;  then,  by  torchlight,  chase  the  mop- 
ing owls  among  our  battlements  ;  all  useless  tasks  to  cheer 
his  solitude  : — I  pity  him  when  mine's  so  easily  amused. 
My  joys  are  everywhere — in  dreams  at  night— at  cock-crow 
early,  and  at  dusky  eve — in  every  field  I  view,  in  the  air  I 
breathe,  in  thine  eyes,  too,  Marie,  that  smile  on  me. 

MARIE.  My  lord,  at  seventeen,  all  things  give  delight  ; 
older  men  dread  the  future,  not  so,  you.  All  things  are 
bright  to  youth  ;  but  I  must  haste,  for  this  fine  day,  and 
flowers,  and  village  dance,  will  cheer  him  on  his  holy  pil- 
grimage. 

DAUPHIN.  Alas  !  now,  dear  Marie,  did  you  but  know  it,  I'm 
so  unhappy. 

MARIE.   You  ? 

DAUPHIN.  And  cause  enough  to  be  so.  The  love  I  bear 
my  father  he  rejects. 

MARIE.   What  thoughts  ! 

DAUPHIN.  Why,  then,  did  he  let  my  childhood  pine  away 
in  yonder  dismal  castle  of  Amboise  ?  uncared  for,  untaught, 
I  scarce  can  read — you  know  I  can't — and  all  I  do  know, 
you  taught  me. 

MARIE.  Hush  ! 

DAUPHIN,  (taking  a  book  from  his  bosom).  But  look  what  I 
have  here. 

MARIE.  Heavens  !  a  book  ? 

DAUPHIN.  Yes,  of  battles,  tournaments — let's  read  it  now. 
Do  you  correct  me,  if  I  make  mistakes. 

MARIE.  Well.  I'll  stay  a  while,  (seating  herself  near  the 
table)  Now,  begin. 

DAUPHIN,  (putting  his  booJe  on  her  lap,  and  sitting  on  an  ot- 
toman at  her  feet,  reading  a*  MARIE  keeps  her  finger  on  the 
page)  "  The  Chronicles  of  France,  written  in  the  year — " 

MARIE.   "  The  year  of  grace. "    Well. 

DAUPHIN,     (puzzled)  Figures— these  I'll  skip. 

MARIE.    And  good  cause  why. 

DAUPHIN.  "Accounts  of  tournaments  and  high  exploits 
— and  how  a  shepherd's  daughter  saved  the  land  of  France 
and  expelled  the  enemy."  I  know—'twas  Joan  of  Arc. 

MARIE.  You've  heard  of  her? 


10  LOUIS    XI. 

DAUPHIN.  The  king  bestowed  upon  her  honors,  rank — for 
kings,  you  know,  can  give  whate'er  they  please  ;  whilst  I, 
poor  child  of  France,  have  naught  to  give.  This  ring  alone 
is  mine — take  it. 

MARIE.  No,  no. 

DAUPHIN.  And  should  I  e'er  be  King — by  this  pledge  I 
give  my  royal  word—  there's  not  a  title,  treasure,  in  my  gift 
which  I'll  refuse  you. 

MARIE.  Did  I  ask  an  exile's  pardon  ? 

DAUPHIN.  An  exile — you  love  him  !  give  back  the  ring. 

MARIE.  I  obey. 

DAUPHIN.  Keep  it — 'tis  given — yes,  'tis  thine.  The  Dau- 
phin's word  the  King  will  not  forget. 

Enter  COMINE,  L.  1  E. 

COMINE.  Your  Highness,  the  King  commands  your  pres- 
ence instantly. 

DAUPHIN.  The  King !  (crosses  to  L.)  I  tremble  in  every 
limb — what  can  he  want  ?  What  have  I  done  ? 

COMINE.  Courage,  my  prince — no  need  to  fear  to-day. 
Duke  Charles's  envoy  has  to  Plessis  come,  with  all  due 
pomp  of  heraldry  and  knights,  and  Louis,  bent  on  honoring 
his  guest,  requests  your  Highness  to  present  the  Duke. 

DAUPHIN.  Amazed — I  tremble  like  some  guilty  thing. 
Good  heavens,  that  son  should  need  to  fear  his  sire  !  When 
I  see  mine,  I'm  motionless  and  dumb  ;  I  scarce  endure  the 
task — and  when  I  see  his  eyes  fixed  on  me  through  their 
half -shut  lids,  as  if  to  scrutinize  and  freeze  my  soul,  each 
kind  affection  shrinks  abashed,  and  though  I  love,  I  shud- 
deringly  kiss  his  hand. 

COMINE.  Dear  Prince,  let  him  not  wait  ! 

DAUPHIN.  I  fly — I  would  but  overcome  my  terror,  (to 
MARIE)  Farewell  to  my  Minister  of  State.  Exit  L.  1  E. 

COMINE.  Marie,  I'd  be  alone — go  wait  me  ia  the  King's 
chamber. 

MARIE.   On  my  finger,  see,  the  pardon  of  Nemours  ! 

Exit,  E. 

CoMirE.  The  Count  de  Rethel  must  be  bought.  The 
King  has  by  the  royal  purse  won  more  than  by  his  sword. 
I  am  despatched  to  find  this  Envoy's  price,  and  in  what 
coin  it  must  be  paid — gold — titles — lands  ! 

Enter  OFFICER,  L.  1  E. 
OFFICER.  The  Count  de  Rethel.  E.rit  L.  1  E. 


LOUIS   XI.  11 

Enter  NEMOURS,  L. 

COMINE.  He  is  here  !     Ah,  Nemours  ! 

NEMOURS.  Is  this  his  living  tomb  ? 

COMINE.  Hush  !  here  echo  turns  informer — walls  have 
eyes. 

NEMOURS.  Fit  dungeon  for  a  king  !  Hard  by  I've  seen 
the  bloody  trace  of  Tristan's  work.  There's  not  a  tree  but 
he  has  made  a  gibbet  of  it,  and  bows  their  branches  down 
with  carrion  fruit. 

COMINE.  And  you  have  crossed  the  threshold  ? 

NEMOURS.  Ay  !  my  secret's  known  to  you  and  Coitier, 
and  which  of  you  two  will  betray  me  ? 

COMINE.  Neither  ! 

NEMOURS.  Could  Louis  recognize  me  ?  No  !  But  once 
he  saw  me — 'twas  on  that  fatal  day,  when  butcher-like  my 
brothers  and  myself  he  forced  beneath  the  scaffold  reeking 
with  our  father's  blood. 

COMINE.  Why  seek  then  one  so  fatal  to  thy  race  ? 

NEMOURS.  To  beard  the  dying  tyrant  ! 

COMINE.  Nemours! 

NEMOURS.  I'm  charged  with  words  that  shall  whiten  his 
cheek,  and  make  him  quail ! 

COMISE.  Beware  ! 

NEMOURS.  Let  Mm  beware.  I'll  make  the  regal  monster 
pale,  as  he  made  me  once. 

COMINE.  Hast  thou  forgotten  Marie  '( 

NEMOURS.  Marie  ! 

COMINE.  Listen,  Nemours — 'tis  in  your  power  to  reconcile 
two  princes  and  their  states,  and  end  a  civil  war  !  which  act, 
too,  would  once  restore  you  to  your  friends,  your  country — 
all !  Yield,  my  son,  the  King  will  pardon  thee — forget — 

NEMOURS.  Forget  ?  What,  forget  his  crime  ?  The  scaf- 
fold— victim — what,  forget  that  horrid  scene  !  Three  pros- 
trate children  'neath  the  ensanguined  block — their  parent's 
altar.  Ay,  there  we  were  conducted  by  his  order — there  as 
I  stood  with  face  uplifted,  as  I  heard  my  father's  faltering 
words,  his  last  expiring  prayer,  I  felt  what  seemed  to  be  his 
tears  that  fell  upon  my  brow — no,  no — these  eyes  shed  tears 
no  more — no  tears. 

COMINE.  Nemours  ! 

NEMOURS.  'Twas  blood,  a  cherished  father's  blood. 
Forget — he  may  forget — ay,  if  he  can,  but  I — oh,  never  ! 

COMINE.  Hark,  'tis  he — away  ! 

NEMOURS.  Now  to  confront  him,  then. 

COMINE.  Your  grave  is  measured. 


12  LOUIS    XI. 

NEMOURS.  Be  it  so.  Then  see  to  it,  I'll  have  no  tears 
shed  for  me — none  !  But  such  as  my  father  wept,  and  those 
I'll  make  to  flow.  Farewell  !  Exit  L. 

COMINE.  He  is  lost.  Exit  R. 

Enter  Louis,  R.  c.,  preceded  by  the  COUNT  DE  DREUX,  and 
followed  by  COITIER,  OLIVER,  KNIGHTS,  COURT  discovered, 
and  CITIZENS. 

Louis,  (to  DREUX)  Pacque  Dieu  !  Look  up  !  Beware, 
Count,  or  by  the  rood,  if  one  more  murmur  or  complaint  I  hear, 
I'll  have  my  hand  upon  you — then  look  to  your  soul,  Heaven 
soilzie  it — as  for  your  body,  I'll  provide  for  that. 

DREUX.   (R.)     But  I  humbly  beg — 

Louis.  (L.)  Deny  it  not — lookup.  Instead  of  two  hun- 
dred golden  crowns,  you've  raised  two  thousand  from  these 
good  folks,  (pointing  to  the  CITIZENS)  You  have  robbed 
and  plundered  them  and  me — by  no  means  the  least  of  your 
crimes.  Look  at  this  dead  King  you  so  despise — is  he  alive 
or  not  ? 

DREUX.  I  pray  you,  sire — 

Louis.  I'm  not  so  ill  as  men  would  make  me  out  to  be  ; 
some  tire  still  gleams,  when  angry,  in  mine  eyes — I  live — the 
ailing  one's  less  pale  than  thou,  though  old,  too,  noble  sir. 
I'll  outlive  you  and  others  too — I'm  man  enough  for  that. 
Whoe'er  desires  to  play  a  game  like  yours,  his  heart  had 
better  fail  him,  ere  he  try.  Mine  is  the  right  divine  by  her- 
itage ;  to  me  alone,  unshared,  it  still  belongs.  You'll  find 
to  touch  that  right  is  dangerous,  and  has  been  fatal  to  much 
loftier  men  than  thou — proud  vassals  whom  I  forced  to  bow. 
Oliver,  you  have  seen  those  troublous  times  ? 

OLIVER.  (L.  c.)  Yes,  sire,  and  e'en  this  day  you're  still 
the  same. 

Louis.  More  numerous — ay,  and  haughtier,  too,  than  he. 
The  game  was  bloody,  and  the  quarry  high  ;  my  scythe 
mowed  down  the  thorns  so  near  the  root,  'twere  vain  to 
searcli  which  way  it  swept  along — it  cut  down  Nemours — 
sharply,  it  may  be — for  an  example  ;  and,  perhaps,  again 
may  do  the  like,  (to  DREUX)  Hast  thou  got  brats  like 
him  ?  Advance  ! 

DREUX.  (terrified}  Sire  !  (aside  to  COITIER)  For  pity's 
sake — 

COITIER.   (L.)     Sire,  passion  is  dangerous. 

Louis.  True,  but  I  am  better  since  I  saw  that  holy  man. 

COITIER.  Have  faith  in  him,  then,  only.  Is  that  eye  of 
fury,  and  yon  passion-bloated  lip,  of  his  prescribing  ? 

Louis.  Coitier ! 


LOUIS    XI.  13 

COITIER.  Oh,  don't  rail  at  me — you're  wrong. 

Louis.  Coitier  ! 

COITIER.  Yes,  wrong,  and  I  am  right.  Hold  I  the  mis- 
Jiief  s  done — your  color's  changed. 

Locis.   What? 

COITIER.  AT  ! 

Louis.  Well,  I'll  be  calm  ! 

COITIER.  No,  suffer  on  : — ay,  die,  if  such  be  your  will  ! 

Louis.  ( To  COITIER,  a*ide)  Peace!  (To  DREUX)  As  for 
you,  what  you  have  ta'en,  give  back  within  three  days,  as 
ransom  for  your  head  :  or  else,  convinced  you  little  value  it, 
I'll  have  the  same  cut  off,  and  (looking  back  at  COITIER)  not 
in  rage,  for  rage  is  dangerous. 

DREUX.  I  submit. 

Louis.  Well,  just  such  a  game  cost  dear  to  Sieur  Melun  ! 
he  was  a  count,  too — same  pride — same  fate — have  a  care — 
Tristan  watches  you  :  and  what  I've  said  to  one,  I'll  do  to 
all.  Now,  go  !  (DREUX  retire*  up) 

OLIVER.  Sire,  the  envoys  from  the  Helvetic  Cantons 
wait. 

Louis.  Pacque  Dieu  !     Begone  with  them  ! 

OLIVER.  Not  see  them  ? 

Louis.  No,  I  hate  republics. 

COMISK.  (Come*  down  K.)  Sire  I  venture  to  observe, 
you've  recognized  their  chartered  rights  and  liberty. 

Louis.  I  know  it.  Freedom  !  ah  !  an  old  word — hated 
sound  ;  I  like  it  not.  Liberty — nick-name  for  tyranny. 
Free  !  rustics,  peasants,  chamois-hunters,  boors  ! 

COMIXE.  Their  nghts  they  know  bravely  how  to  defend. 

Louis.  What  !  would  they  have  me  take  part  with  them, 
against  my  beloved  cousin,  Burgundy,  whose  ambassador  is 
here  ?  No,  no  !  (aside  to  OLIVER)  Treat  with  them. 

OLIVER,   (aside  L,.  c.)     How  ( 

Locis.  (aside)  Give  what  you  must,  and  promise  them 
the  rest. 

OLIVER,   (aside)     Enough. 

Louis,  (aloud)  Banquet  them  and  let  them  go.  (aside) 
with  our  French  wine  you  may  do  much — they  are  Swiss, 
and  drink  hard — go !  (to  COITIER,  who  is  going  up,  L.) 
Where  goest  thou  ? 

COITIER.  In  yon  banquet,  sire,  I  meant  to  take  my  part. 

Louis.  Sit  at  the  head,  Coitier  ;  but  pray  be  watchful 
o'er  your  health. 

COITIER.  Answer  for  yourself  :  I  will  do  the  like. 

Locis.  Indulgent  to  themselves — heedless  of  others'  ills 
— Buch  are  physicians. 


14  LOUIS    XI. 

COITIER.  Yes,  and  many  more  of  whom  your  Majesty 
takes  great  account — who  preach,  but  do  not  practice, 
abstinence. 

Louis.  Go,  scoffer !  Exit  COITIER,  R.  c.] 

Well,  Comine,  what  says  yon  count  ? 

COMINE.  He's  incorruptible. 

Louis.  That  cannot  be. 

COMINE.  He  spurned  your  gifts. 

Louis.  Because  you  didn't  offer  him  enough.  I'll  treat 
with  him  myself — admit  him  ! 

COMINE.  Sir,  believe  me,  'tis  in  vain — do  not  receive 
him. 

Enter  MARIE,  c. 

Louis.  Begone  !  Exit  COMINE,  R. 

Well,  Marie,  hast  thou  been  harvesting  among  the  flowers  ? 

MARIE.  (R.)  I  call  the  neighboring  bushes  to  attest  I 
have  not  spared  a  bud. 

Louis.  What  of  yon  holy  man  ?     Hast  seen  his  miracles  ? 

MARIE.  Not  one. 

Lonis.  Ay,  he  reserves  his  power  for  meal  one — but  go, 
my  pretty  child,  here  come  affairs  of  state. 

Enter  DAUPHIN  R.  c. 

DAUPHIN.  (R.  c.)  Sire,  the  Envoy  from  Duke  Charles,  the 
Count  de  Rethel,  awaits  an  audience. 

Trumpets. — The  KING  ascends  Ms  throne,  c. — Enter  NEMOURS, 
COMINE,  GOLDEN  FLEECE,  KING-AT-ARMS,  TRISTAN,  and 
SUITE,  R.  c. 

MARIE,   {recognizing  NEMOURS)  Ah  ! 

Louis,  (aside)  Pacque  Dieu  !  Marie  knows  him.  (to 
MARIE)  Go,  child.  Exit  MARIE,  R.  c. 

NEMOURS.  (R.,  aside)  My  body  trembles  with  convulsive 
dread — 'tis  he,  the  murderer  of  my  sire. 

Louis,  (of ter  reading  the  credentials  presented  by  a  kneel- 
ing HERALD)  Why  thus  confused,  Sir  Count  ?  Compose 
yourself. 

NEMOURS.  (R.)  Anger,  as  well  as  fear,  will  blanch  the 
cheek. 

Louis.  Anger — for  what  ? 

NEMOURS.  You  shall  learn.  Know,  sire,  that  the  High 
Lord,  Duke  Charles  of  Burgundy,  first  peer  of  France,  and 
Sovereign  prince — 

Louis.  I  know  the  States,  of  which  I'm  paramount — to 
the  point. 


LOUIS    XI.  15 

NEMOURS.  He  charges  you,  then,  King  of  France,  with 
breach  of  faith.  You  have  espoused  the  quarrel  of  the 
Swiss,  aided  and  succored  their  rebellion  ;  and  while 
those  rebels,  sire,  defy  our  arms,  you  here  receive  their 
chiefs  within  your  walls. 

Louis.  I  have  not  seen,  and  will  not  see  them,  Count. 
What  more  ? 

NEMOURS.  Lords  of  Braacas  and  Chabanne  have,  lance 
in  hand,  surprised  our  citadels. 

Louis.  The  wrong  be  on  their  heads — they  both  have 
acted  'gainst  my  will. 

NEMOURS.  The  proof. 

Louis.  You  shall  have  it. 

NEMOURS.  Ay,  sire,  I  must,  and  more. 

Louis.  What  ? 

NEMOURS.  Their  punishment. 

Louis.  You  exact  too  much — I  ought  to  hear  their  plea, 
ere  I  condemn. 

NEMOURS,  (passionately)  Your  axe  has,  for  a  less  crime, 
caused  many  a  nobler  head  to  fall. 

Louis,   (rising)  What  mean  you  ? 

NEMOURS.  At  the  last  assize — above — your  outraged 
judge  will  show  you  whose  I  mean  ! 

Louis.  Charles  the  Bold  has  an  outspoken  Envoy.  His 
"nom-de-guerre  "  was  never  more  deserved.  'Tiswell — oh, 
very  well — proceed,  proceed  ! 

NEMOURS.  I  will.  Know,  then,  Louis  of  Valois,  King 
of  France,  that  Charles,  for  the  grievances  this  paper  cites, 
demands  full  justice,  which  denied,  through  me,  he  threat- 
ens, in  the  name  of  France's  weal,  the  lions  bold  of  Bur- 
gundy to  loose.  For  every  duchy,  county,  fief,  or  right  of 
which  he's  seized,  as  vassal  to  your  crown,  new  he  acquits 
himself — abjures  his  fealty,  and  declares  himself  the  cham- 
pion of  those  sainted  souls  whose  blood  thy  ruthless  hand 
has  shed.  Those  martyrs  he  invokes  to  aid  his  cause  ;  and 
now,  as  knight,  as  peer,  as  prince,  to  single  combat  dares 
thee  to  the  field.  So  God  defend  the  right !  (throws  down  a 
glove)  There's  his  gage — who  lifts  it  ? 

DAUPHIN,  (starts  forward  from  L.  and  picks  up  the  glove)  I, 
for  Valois  and  the  lilies.  (Tableau.) 

Louis.  Stand  back  !  give  place  !  (advances.)  'Tis  well, 
Charles  \  By  the  mass,  a  true  son  of  France  ! 

DAUPHIN  (affected)  Father  ! 

Louis,  (coldly  pushing  away  the  DAUPHIN)  Give  place. 
Take  up  the  gauntlet,  Golden  Fleece — the  grasp  of  that 
young  hand  hath  honored  it.  (to  CAVALIERS)  Look  you, 


16  LOUIS    XI. 

gentlemen,  the  king  is  outraged  here,  and  you  shall  see  how, 
as  a  king,  I  can  repay,  (to  NEMOURS)  Count,  take  back  this 
menace,  and  praise  my  clemency,  which,  for  your  fierce 
fidelity  to  him  you  serve,  forgives  your  boldness — Charles 
has  a  treasure  in  you  !  I'll  keep  this  writing — we'll  read  it 
lovingly,  as  peacemakers  should  do.  After  our  pilgrimage 
there  to  the  woodland  chapel,  let  us  meet  as  friends — as 
Christian  friends  ;  forgetting  trespass,  and  full  of  charity. 

NEMOURS.  We  meet,  sire,  as  king  and  envoy — my  duty 
is  obedience — I  shall  be  there. 

Flourish — Exit  NEMOUKS  and  SUITE,  B.C. — Louis  signs 
to  ALL  to  retire,  and,  TRISTAN  to  remain  at  back  of  stage. — 
Exit  DAUPHIN,  GUARDS,  and  PAGES,  L. 

Louis.  Good  Comine,  stay. 

COMINE.  (R.)  Had  you  taken  my  advice,  sire,  you  would 
never  have  admitted  him. 

Louis.  I  rather  love  those  who  are  roused  to  rage  :  better 
and  sooner  I  can  read  their  minds.  Burgundy  I  must  calm 
by  signing  this.  His  rashness,  ere  long,  will  prove  his  ruin. 
The  worthy  Campo  Basso,  whom  he  loves,  would  sell  him 
at  a  pinch,  and  sell  himself  ;  for  he's  without  his  peer  at 
treachery.  My  cousin's  pride  is  sure  to  make  him  fail  ;  to 
stop  him  on  his  way  were  impious,  (after  a  pause)  My  son 
— an  early  age  to  be  so  bold  ! 

COMINE.  Worthy  young  scion  of  his  sire  !  how  quick  he 
flew  to  undertake  so  good  a  cause  ! 

Louis,  (thoughtfully)  Dangerous  he  would  prove,  should 
he  rebel. 

COMINE.  What,  sire  ? 

Louis.  Too  well,  I  know't ;  for  I,  myself,  know  what  a 
dauphin  once  did  Against  his  king. 

COMINE.  He's  a  good  prince. 

Louis.  Comine — this  Count  de  Rethel  knows  my  daugh- 
ter ? 

COMINE.  (astonished)  He  ? 

Louis.  Answer. 

COMINE.  I  learned  while  she  was  at  the  Court  of  Bur- 
gundy, and  I  was  in  France,  he  saw  her,  and — and — 

Louis.  He  saw  and  loved  her  ? 

COMINE.  I  think  so,  sire. 

Louis.  He  loves  her,  yet  he's  proof  to  bribery.  Go — 
go  to  my  chamber,  (aside)  I'll  gather  more  from  her. 

Exit  COMINE,  L.,  whom  Louis  locks  in  his  closet. 

Louis,  (to  TRISTAN,  who  is  at  back,  B.)  Hither  ! 

TRISTAN.   T'm  here. 

Louis.  \.  et  nearer — nearer  still. 


LOUIS    XI.  17 

TRISTAN.  I'll  listen  with  mine  eyes — speak  low. 

Louis.  Well,  I've  forgiven  this  chanticleer. 

TRISTAN.  So  you  said. 

Louis.  'Tistrue. 

TRISTAN.  No  doubt. 

Louis.  But  if  Heaven  should  decree  some  overflow  to 
Burgundy,  would  it  tee  right  to  let  the  Count  bear  off  the 
treaty  ? 

TRISTAN.  Both  are  in  your  power. 

Louis.  What  d'ye  mean — violence  ?  to  an  ambassador ! 
Not  for  my  kingdom.  No,  not  here. 

TRISTAN.  How  then  ? 

Louis.  An  escort  will  attend  him,  when  he  leaves. 

TRISTAN.  To  do  him  honor  ? 

Louis.  Ay,  to  do  him  honor. 

TRISTAN.  Who  will  command  it  ? 

Louis.  Thou. 

TRISTAN.  Ah  !  and  how  shall  I  compose  the  troop  ? 

Louis.  Of  men,  you  know — right  trusty  men. 

TRISTAN.  Numerous  ? 

Louis.  More  so  than  his. 

TRISTAN.  Of  course — to  do  him  honor  ! 

Louis.  And  then,  who  knows  but  on  the  road — Harkl 
(bell  tolls)  What's  that— the  Angelus  ? 

Takes  off  his  cap,  and  stands  as  if  in  reverence — TRISTAN 
imitates  him — the  fell  ceases — he  replaces  his  cap. 

Louis.  Who  knows  but  on  the  road  ? — He's  proud. 

TRISTAN.   Most  arrogant. 

Louis.  'Twixt  the  two  bands,  a  quarrel  might  ensue. 

TRISTAN.  It  might. 

Louis.  It  should. 

TRISTAN.  It  shall ! 

Louis.  Defend  yourself ! 

TRISTAN.  Trust  me  for  that. 

Louis.  And  so,  get  back  the  treaty. 

TRISTAN.  But  the  Count  ?  — 

Louis.  Not  understand  me  yet  ? 

TRISTAN.  We  must — 

Louis,  (patting  him  on  the  chin  playfully)  A  smile  !  Ha, 
ha,  ha  !  d'ye  see  me  now,  eh,  gossip — eh  ? 

TRISTAN.     I  understand.  They  go  up  towards  R.C. 

END   6F   ACT   FIRST. 


18  LOUIS   XI. 


ACT  SECOND. 

SCENE  FIRST.—  A  Forest— at  L.,  the  Chapel  of  our  Lady  of 
the  Woods,  with  projecting  and  covered  doorway,  and  steps 
leading  up  to  it — on  the  B.C.  side,  a  rustic  seat  at  the  foot 
of  an  old  oak. 

Music. — As  the  curtain  rises,  RICHARD,  MARCEL,  DIDIER, 
MARTHA,  JULIE,  and  TRADESPEOPLE  are  discovered — the 
VILLAGERS  are  seen  dancing  in  circle — after  dance,  they  sep- 
arate into  various  groups,  R.  andi,.,  conversing. 

MARTHA,  (approaching  MARCEL.)  Is  the  King  better  ? 

MARCEL.  So  'tis  said — who  knows  ? 

MARTHA.  How  long  these  kings,  Marcel,  do  linger  ! 

MARCEL.  His  birth's  so  good  he's  loath  to  leave  it,  wife. 

JULIE.  Health  is  worth  its  weight  in  gold  ;  and  his,  they 
say,  costs  a  good  round  sum  to  the  treasury. 

DIDIER.  Ay,  we've  proof  of  that  in  tax-gatherers  who 
plunder  us. 

MARCEL.  Duties  on  everything — e'en  on  our  merriment. 
Now,  fun  I  dearly  love  ;  but  fun  that's  forced — 

MARTHA.  To  dance  for  pleasure's  well,  but  at  command — 

JULIE.  To  please  another  when  half  dead  with  fear — 

RICHARD.   (L.)  The  worst  of  taxes  were  to  be  preferred. 

MARCEL.  They're  coming  now — to  your  places,    (he  sings) 

DIDIER.  (to  MARCEL)  Here  come  some  Scotch  Guards. 

Enter  Two  OFFICERS  and  Two  SCOTCH  GUARDS,  L.  2  E. 

TRADESMAN,  (to  one  of  the  GUARDS)  Good  sir,  for  pity's 
sake  pay  me — 

MARCEL.  Here's  one  of  them  been  making  free  with  some- 
thing. 

1st  GUARD,  (to  TRADESMAN)  Not  a  denier.  Were  I  to  pay 
a  Jew.  what  would  my  confessor  say  ?  Off,  miscreant ! 
(pushes  him  aside,  and  crosses  to  R.C. — to  MARTHA)  A  word, 
my  pretty  lass. 

MARCEL,  (interfering)    But  she's  my  wife,  sir. 

1st  GUARD.  What  matter  ?  I'm  one  of  the  family,  and  I' It 
have  a  kiss,  (kisses  MARTHA,  and  crosses  to  R.) 

MARCEL,  (taking  off  his  cap  and  bowing)  You  do  me  un- 
common honor. 

1st  GUARD.  Thou  ow'st  the  king's  people  a  toll  for  that 
pretty  wife  of  thine,  and  now  I've  taken  it.  To-morrow 
we'll  pay  thee  another  call.  Exeunt  GUARDS,  laughing,  L. 


LOUIS    XI.  19 

MARTHA.  They  might  have  spared  me  that  detested  kisa. 
(wiping  her  cheek).  Nothing  is  sacred  from  these  libertines. 

DIDIER.  They  plague  us  worse  than  wind,  or  hail,  or  for- 
est laws. 

MARCEL.  Ay,  work  away,  get  in  your  yearly  crops,  ay,  just 
to  let  them,  from  their  swallows'  iiests,  come  swarming  down, 
and  scatter  terror,  shame,  and  misery,  where'er  their  fury 
lights.  Hush,  here's  Sieur  Oliver. 

(PEASANTS  pretend  gayety,  and  resume  dancing,  &c. 

Enter  OLIVER,  R.U.E. 

OLIVER.  (R.)  So — dancing — singing — well  done  ! 

MARCEL.  You  see,  monsieur,  how  happy  we  are  all ! 

(crosses  to  c. 

OLIVER.  I  came  on  purpose  to  judge  for  myself  ;  but  let 
the  fete  proceed — laugh,  dance,  and  sing  all  heartily.  You 
know  I  am  the  people's  friend. 

MARCEL,   (aside)  Not  long  ago  he  was  our  village  barber. 

MARTHA.  We  took  good  care  to  do  so,  for  the  Grand 
Provost  has  given  us  notice,  that,  as  noon  struck,  we  were 
to  be  making  merry,  and  good  Sieur,  Tristan  hears  of  no 
excuse  when  he  would  have  us  happy — only  look  at  us. 

OLIVER.  'Tis  bravely  done  !  Maybe  the  King  will  venture 
hither  on  so  fine  a  day. 

DIDIER.  The  King  ! 

MARTHA.  Among  us  ! 

OLIVER.  Yes,  surely.    Why,  what  ails  the  man  ? 

MARCEL.  '  Tis  joy,  joy,  sir  ;  and — and  the  sudden  shock — 
the  Kyig  ! 

OLIVER.  Well,  fool !  Hark,  you  must  try  to  amuse  him, 
and  gladden  his  heart,  by  some  song  or  story.  Tell  him  he 
looks  vastly  well.  Eh  ?  tell  him  all  you  think. 

MARCEL.  What,  all  ? 

OLIVER.  Why  not  ? 

MARCEL.  Well,  I'll  complain  o'  th'  people  about  the  King. 

MARTHA.  Of  the  Scotch  Guards  I. 

DIDIER.  I,  of  the  forest  laws. 

VILLAGER.  And  I — 

OLIVER.  Hold  hard — this  boldness  is  too  much. 

MARCEL.  Excuse  me,  monseigneur,  we  think — 

OLIVER.  Good  people  think  the  King  desires  their  good  I 
Say  you  love  him. 

MARCEL.  So  we  do. 

OLIVER.   As  son  should  love  a  father  ? 

MARCEL.  Just  so. 


20  LOUIS   XI. 

OLrvfcn.  Yr  ell — tell  him  so,  when  he  con.es.  Hush  !  he 
is  here  ! 

ALL.  Where  ?  (they  tumble  over  each  other  in  fright — ALL 
cross  to  L.) 

OLIVER.  There — (points]  coming  from  the  hermitage. 

MARCEL.  Eh — what  !  That  pale,  infirm  old  man  the 
King? 

OLIVER.  Sing,  dance — quick  !  But  mind  you  do  not  rec- 
ognize him. 

The  dance  is  resumed. — Enter  Louis  and  TRISTAN,  R.  u.  E. — 
During  this  and  the  following  scenes  TRISTAN  appears,  »from 
time  to  time  as  if  on  guard  over  Louis. 

Louis,  (coming  slowly  forward,  and  falling  exhausted  on  a 
rustic  seat,  R.)  The  sunlight  dazzles,  and  the  mid-day  heat 
oppresses  me.  The  air  was  lighter,  purer,  once.  Climates 
have  changed. 

OLIVER.  (R.,  pointing  to  PEASANTS)  Sire,  mingle  with 
their  sport.  You  are  not  known  here.  Address  them,  (to 
PEASANTS)  Approach. 

Louis,  (to  MARTHA)  Are  you  the  farmer's  wife  ? 

MARTHA.  So  I  am,  sir,  please  ye. 

Louis,  (as  he  contemplates  her)  Bounteous  nature  !  How 
do  you  contrive  to  keep  such  health,  such  blooming  cheeks? 

MARTHA,  (after  a  pause)  I  know  not.  We  have  it  as 
Heaven  wills.  'Tis  natural,  and  visits  us,  methinks,  as 
grass  clothes  fields,  and  acorns  grow  in  woods.  Up  at 
cock-crow,  we  commence  our  farming  toil — husband  goes 
a-field — wife  at  home — the  work  goes  on,  and  makes  a  fru- 
gal meal  taste  like  a  banquet.  No  bed  is  hard  to  those  who 
rise  at  dawn.  Hard  work,  good  appetite,  good  conscience 
too,  and  sleep  enough — such  are  our  guides  to  health. 

Louis.  What,  never  sad  ? 

MARTHA.  Yes — when  bread  is  dear  !  Still,  in  my  chim- 
ney corner  I  can  gayly  sing,  spite  all  my  cares — for  they  who 
suffer  gayly  have  less  grief  ;  and  there  is  none  so  poor  but 
that  a  poorer  still  is  jealous  of  his  luck. 

Louis,  (to  OLIVER)  These  humble  folks  find  joy  in  every- 
thing. Have  you  no  ailments  that  require  the  doctors  ? 

MARCEL,  (crossing  to  him)  Not  we.     Doctors  ! — no,  no  ! 

Louis.  How's  that? 

MARCEL.  I'm  no  such  fool.  They  take  your  coin,  and  do 
no  good.  Better  to  buy  a  cask  of  wine,  mellow  with  age — 
that's  the  best  medicine — and  very  fond  I  am  of  it.  As  for 
those  doctors,  they  only  give  you  hopes  ;  and  on  one  goes 


LOUIS    XI.  21 

a-hoping,  until  some  fine  day — crack — good  bye — we're 
gone. 

Louis,   (rising)  Thou  fearest  not  death  ? 

MARCEL.  I  never  give  it  thought,  but  think>9f  vineyards, 
and  of  harvest  dream  ;  and,  lacking  comfort,  whisper  to 
myself,  "  Our  little  Marcel  is  a  fine,  brave  boy — his  mother's, 
father's  pet.  He  grows  each  year.  I've  had  my  time,  and 
he'll  have  his,  dear  lad.  We'll  save  up  well,  that  he  may 
never  want — never  regret  our  loss  ;  for  anyhow,  sooner  or 
later,  sons  their  sires  succeed." 

Louis.  The  later,  sure,  the  better. 

MARCEL.  Yes,  of  course. 

OLIVER,   (aside  to  MARCEL  and  over  Louis's  sit*/ulder)  Fool  ! 

MARCEL.  Am  I  wrong  ? 

OLIVER.  Physicians  have  vast  skill. 

MARCEL.  'T  was  of  our  village  barber  that  I  spoke,  (mean- 
ingly) And  all  the  world  knows  what  these  barbers  are. 

Louis,  (laughing  and  skipping  OLIVER'S  tack)  Here's  one 
who  knows  the  secret  of  the  trade  better  far  than  thee. 

OLIVER,   (angrily  to  MARCEL)  Why  laugh'st  thou,  man  ? 

MARCEL.  What,  I  ?  Monseigneur  just  made  a  remarK  that 
I  thought  funny — that  was  why  I  smiled. 

Louis.  You  call  him  Master  Oliver — le  Diable — is't  not 
so? 

MARCEL.  No. 

Louis.  You  do. 

MARTHA,  (to  MARCEL)  'Tis  dangerous  to  say  too  much. 
Be  mum  !  (crosses  to  R.) 

Louis.  Come,  we're  close  friends.     Pray  tell  me. 

MARTHA.  Wind  and  storm  we  may  abuse,  for  neither  doth 
one  jot  our  railing  heed  ;  but  with  great  men  'tis  quite 
another  thing — and  we  must  whisper  close  our  lightest 
words — all's  said  is  sure  to  reach  them,  and  mayhap  at  morn 
we'll  rue  the  laugh  we  had  at  night. 

Louis,  (to  MARCEL)  And  in  all  truth,  fearest  thou  not 
death  ? 

MARCEL.  Why  should  I  ?  Yes,  I  remember  how  my  heart 
failed  me  when  I  once  beheld  a  bad  man's  funeral,  its 
priestly  pomp — the  service  and  the  burial  chant !  I  fancied 
demons  in  the  darkness  round,  hovering  in  waiting  for  their 
prey,  which  not  e'en  all  the  gold  he  loved  so  well,  and 
earned  so  ill,  could  purchase  back. 

Louis.  Oh,  agony  !  despair  !  torture  !  (crosses  to  R.) 

OLIVER:   (aside  to  MARCEL)  Fool  ! 

MARCEL,  (not  heeding)  I  was,  I  own  ;  and  yet  I  could  not 
help  it — he  was  a  murderer  ! 


22  LOUIS  xi. 

Louis,  (violently)  Begone  !  (to  himself)  Death — hell !  (to 
MARCEL)  Begone  !  No — come,  tell  me,  wretch — who  bid 
thee  thus  address  me  ? 

MARCEL,   (filling  on  his  knees)   Nobody. 

Louis,  (violently)  You've  been  bribed  to  do  it.  By 
whom  ?  whom  ? 

MARCEL.  No,  no — 

OLIVEK.   (R.,  aside  to  Louis)  Sire,  sire,  command  yourself. 

MARTHA,  (cresses  to  him)  There's  no  malice  in  his  jests — 
pardon  him. 

Louis,  (laughs  faintly)  Ha,  ha  !  'twas  nothing — I  was  but 
jesting  with  the  fool  (to  MARTHA).  Is  he  yoiir  husband  ? 

MARTHA.  Ay. 

Louis,  (unbending  again)  Well,  I'll  pardon  him,  if  you  will 
tell  me  one  thing  true,  with  that  pretty  face,  those  rosy 
cheeks,  those  eyes — you  have  lovers  in  the  village — who  are 
they? 

MARCEL.  Name  them  all,  Martha— don't  mind  me. 

MARTHA,   (smiling)  Well,  then,  I've  only  one. 

Louis.  Who's  that  ? 

MA^HA.  Yourself. 

Louis,   (putting  his  arm  round  her  waist)  Ha,  ha,  ha, ! 

MARTHA.   Ha,  ha ! 

Louis.  What,  me — an  aged  man  ? 

MARTHA.  No,   not  so  very  old. 

Louis.  No  !  Ha,  ha  ! 

MARTHA.  You've  a  bright  eye. 

OLIVER,  (aside)  Bravo  ! 

MARTHA.  Yes,  quite  a  roguish  air. 

Louis.  Ah,  chuck  !  Ha,  ha  ! 

MARTHA.  A  girl  with  you  might  rue  her  trust  !  and  might 
3  have  a  wish,  it  would  be  this — that,  like  you  in  humor 
and  in  face,  our  King  may  look  as  young  and  hale  as  you. 

Louis.  As  me  ? 

MARTHA.  Then,  sir,  we  all  should  be  without  a  care,  for 
you  will  surely  live  a  century. 

Louis.  A  century  ! 
-.(Here  OLIVER  slips  a  purse   into  her  hand,  which  she  shows 

behind  to  the  other  PEASANTS,  then  crosses  behind  to  the  KING, 

R. 

Louis,  (affected,  to  OLIVER)  Oliver,  d'ye  hear — d'ye  hear  ? 
•(to  MARTHA)  Pardieu,  my  child  !  that  king  you  wish  so 
well  (talcing  her  round  the  waist  and  heartily  kissing  her),  that 
king  that  looks  so  hale,  now  kisses  thee. 

MARTHA,  (kneeling)  The  King  ! 

ALL.  (kneeling)  Long  live  the  King. 


LOUIS  xi.  28 

Louis.  Good  people  !  their  joy  goes  to  my  heart. 

OLIVER.  Because  it  comes  from  theirs. 

Louis.  Thanks,  in  the  name  of  France  and  of  myself,  (to 
MARTHA)  Ah  !  live  a  century  !  (gives  her  money)  Here,  and 
here  (scatters  money).  Go  and  rejoice — drink  to  my  hundred 
years. 

MARCEL.  Ay,  ten  times  o'er. 

MARTHA.  Ay,  do  ;  and  I  shall  tell  them — that  I  -will — 
that  I  had  two  big  kisses  from  the  King. 

Exeunt  MARCEL,  RICHARD,  DIDIER,  MARTHA,  PEASANTS, 

&C.    L., 

Louis,  c.,  (with  emotion)  How  sweet  to  be  so  loved  ! 

OLIVER.  (R.)  'Tis  true. 

Louis.  A  century  !  I  dare  not  hope  it ;  yet  my  horoscope 
so  bodes. 

OLIVER.  Is't  possible  ? 

Louis.  Oh,  let  me  but  live  to  level  in  the  dust  yon  tyrant 
lords  of  France — to  see  my  vassal  princes  forced  to  pawn 
their  jewels — barons,  penniless,  and  dukes  without  broad 
lands  to  boast  of,  ruined  all,  and  all  their  power  conjoined 
in  me,  to  form  one  kingdom  'neath  one  law — the  law  of 
France,  where  all  shall  be  people — all — all  BUT  ME  ! 

OLIVER.  Heaven  grant  it  so. 

Louis.  My  cousin  Charles,  once  dead,  then  the  well-be- 
loved Dukes  of  Burgundy  shall  be  extinct  forever.  Hold, 
apropos,  where  is  Marie  ? 

OLIVER,   (pointing  to  the  chapel  door,  L.)  There  ! 

(Trumpet  and  CRIES  o/""  Vive  le  Dauphin!"  areheard. 

Louis.   What's  that  shouting  ? 

OLIVER,  (crosses  to  L.,  and  meets  TRISTAN  entering  L.,  who 
informs  him  by  action).  Sire,  the  Dauphin  now  is  passing 
through  the  hamlet,  and  those  shouts  come  from  your  loving 
people. 

Shouts  and  cries  repeated. 

Louis.  Still  those  shouts  annoy  me  !  The  Dauphin  must 
bide  his  time — he's  not  king  yet.  Retire — he's  here. 

Exit  OLIVER  and  TRISTAN  into  the  chapel,  L. 

Enter  the  DAUPHIN  and  Two   PAGES,  L. 

Louis.  What  ails  you  ? — why  those  tears  ? 

DAUPH.  All  along  my  road  the  people  greeted  me  with 
cries  of  welcome. 

Louis.  Splendid  cause  for  happiness,  these  rustic  shouts  ! 
Be  advised,  my  son — judge  better  of  your  late  reception  here 
— 'twas  I  that  told  them,  paid  them,  to  do  this. 

DAUPH.  What,  Sire  ? — this  joy  was  it  at  your  commands  f 


24  LOUIS    XI. 

LOTTIS.  At  mine.  Now  profit  by  the  lesson,  prince-— 
begone  !  to-inorrow  you  return  to  Ambiose. 

DAUPH.  What  have  I  done  ? 

Louis.  You  !  what  would  you  dare  to  do  ? — what  could 
you  ?  Nothing. 

DAUPH.  Not  even  please  you  ;  but — 

Louis.  Speak  ! 

DAUPH.   It  was  a  dream. 

Louis.   Go  on. 

DAUPH.  I  dreamed,  or  hoped,  that  your  arms,  sire,  would 
open  wide  to  clasp  me.  I  dreamed  you  loved  me — but — 

Louis.  Then  you  suppose  I  love  you  not  ?  I  hate  you, 
eh  ?  Ungrateful  boy  ! 

DAUPH.    Sire  ! 

Louis.  Thus  men  talk.  Who  told  you  so  ? — your  uncle, 
Orleans  ?  (familiarly)  Now,  Charles,  my  son,  be  frank.  In 
confidence  tell  me  their  names.  I  will  not  punish  them. 
I  only  wish  to  know. 

DAUPH.   Well,  my  uncle  says — 
•  Louis.  He  says  ? 

DAUPH.  That  some  day  I  shall  reign  o'er  France,  and 
ought  to  make  myself  beloved. 

Louis,  (aside)  The  traitor  !  (aloud)  Does  he  not  say  that, 
weakened  by  disease,  I  must,  ere-long — But  it's  false  !  In 
short,  that  you  have  nought  to  do  but  seize  the  crown, 
which  will  erelong,  fall  of  .itself  into  your  hands.  The 
traitor  lies — he  lies  !  Do  I  totter  'neath  the  load  of  all  the 
fiefs  of  France  ? 

DAUPH.  Oh,  my  father,  how  you  wrong  me  !  Could  I 
add  my  life  to  yours,  and  so  prolong  your  days,  I'd  give 
my  life  up  willingly. 

Louis,  (taking  away  Ms  hand,  which  the  DAUPHIN  has 
taken  to  kiss)  Go  ! 

(DAUPHIN,  about  to  go,  returns,  and  weeping,  kisses  Louis's 
hand.) 

Louis,  (affected,  and  aside)  'Tis  a  good  boy  !  Mayhap, 
though,  I'm  deceived,  (crosses  to  R.  c.,  and  seats  himself  on 
bank. 

Enter  MARIE,  from  the  chapel,  L. 

DAUPH.  (aside  to  MARIE)  Adieu,  and  think  of  me.  I  leave 
to-morrow,  (he  Msses  her  hand)  Fare  thee  well  ! 

Exuent  DAUPHIN  and  PAGES,  L. 

MARIE,  (looks  compassionately  after  him — seeing  Louis) 
Pardon,  sire. 

Louis,   (aside)    'Tis   she !     (aloud)     Come   hither,    child. 


LOTTI8    XI.  25 

How  beautiful  thou  art  !  Here,  sit  near  me.  (she  does  so) 
So,  don't  blush.  Were  I  a  stripling  now,  I  could  say  that 
would  fetch  a  smile  upon  your  lip,  but  now  what  am  I  ? 

MARIE.  You  are  a  great  king,  sire. 

Louis.  Some  brides  and  bridegrooms,  whom  I  have  made 
happy,  have  told  me  so  ;  and  now  I  think  of  it,  I  had  all 
but  made  a  match  for  you  myself. 

MARIE.   For  me  ? 

Louis.  Ay,  I  had  made  out  for  you  quite  a  long  love-tale. 
Shall  I  tell  it  you  ? 

MARIE.  Do,  sire,  do. 

Louis.  Listen,  then.  Once  on  a  time,  at  the  court  of 
Charles  of  Burgundy,  there  lived  a  lovely  maiden,  who 
loved  a  young,  noble,  and  handsome  cavalier. 

MARIE,   (anxiowly)  Proceed  ! 

Louis.   You're  interested. 

MARIE.   Very. 

Louis.  Well,  they  were  parted  by  an  unhappy  fate — but 
so  fondly  did  the  young  knight  love  his  mistress,  that  he 
penetrated  to  the  Court  of  France,  where  she  lived,  in  the 
disguise  of — what  think  ye  ? 

MARIE.    What,  sire  ? 

Louis.   An  envoy.     Ha  ! 

MARIE.    An  envoy,  sire  ?     You  jest. 

Louis.  "Pis  but  a  tale — let  me  go  on.  I  did  suspect  his 
love,  and  taxed  him  with  it — he  nobly  owned  his  passion. 

MARIE.   And  you,  sire  ? 

Louis.  Consented  to  bestow  the  maiden's  hand  upon 
him. 

MARIE.    On  him — on  him  ! 

Louis.  On  whom  ?  'Tis  but  a  jest — a  tale  !  You're  not 
in  love  ! 

MARIE,    (frightened)   Oh,  sire,  who  has  betrayed  him  ? 

Louis.   Who  !    Your  own  father. 

MARIE.   He  told  you  ? 

Louis.    Yes — all. 

MARIE.   He  named  him  ? 

Louis.   Ay. 

MARIE.  You  spare  his  life — forgive  ? 

Louis.   I  do. 

MARIE,    (transported  with  joy)  Nernours  ! 

(rises  and  crosses  to  c. 

Louis,  (rising  in  triumph — aside)  It  is  Nemours  !  So,  so, 
to  ! 

MARIE.  Oh,  moment  full  of  happiness,  of  triumph  !  Let 
me  see  him — dry  his  tears,  and  share  his  pleasure. 


26  LOUIS  xi. 

Louis.  No,  no,  not  yet. 

MAKIE.  Why  not  ?  If  chance  should  this  way  guide  his 
steps — 

Lours,   (shaking  his  finger,  playfully}   Chance  ? 

MAKIE.  Well,  then —  No,  I  ought  to  tell  you  all.  I'm 
pledged  to  meet  Nemours  here,  now,  at  his  desire. 

Louis.  Hush  !  poor  Nemours  believes  himself  unknown 
• — for  weighty  reasons  let  him  think  so  still.  Mind,  promise 
me,  Marie,  by  his  life,  which  rests  upon  your  silence. 

MARIE.  I  will — I  will  ! 

Louis,  (crossing  to  L. — aside)  Nemours  !  A  word  from  me, 
he  dies.  Shall  I  speak  that  word  ?  Tristan  ! 

(TRISTAN  comes  down  L. 

Louis,  (to  MARIE)  I'll  leave  you  here,  (kisses  her)  My 
child,  farewell !  (pointing  to  the  image  of  the  Virgin)  She 
watches  you  !  Exeunt  Louis  and  TRISTAN  into  the  chapel,  L. 

MARIE.  How  sweet  to  me  that  kiss  ! — 'tis  mercy's  pledge  ! 
But  ah  !  this  unexpected  joy's  too  great.  Let  not  my  eyes 
play  tell-tale  upon  my  heart.  Oh,  Heaven  !  I  tremble, 
smile,  and  weep  at  once  with  vast  excess  of  joy.  He 
comes  I 

Enter  NEMOURS,  R.  2  E. 
Nemours ! 

NEMOURS.  Marie  !  at  last  we  meet ! 

MARIE.  In  your  own  land,  beneath  the  sky  of  France. 

NEMOURS.  Which  once  beheld  my  sufferings. 

MARIE.  Hope. 

NEMOUJ  s.  For  death  ? 

MARIE.  No,  no — an  angel  whispers  me  all  will  yet  be 
well. 

NEMOURS.  More  beautiful  than  ever  ! 

MARIE.  Absent,  then,  you  still  thought  of  me. 

NEMOURS.  Sweet  Marie  ! 

MARIE.  When  I  was  gathering  in  the  dew  the  offering 
which  I  have  on  the  altar  placed,  the  flowers,  which  leaf  by 
leaf  my  fingers  culled,  told  of  your  true  love  and  faith  for 
me,  dear  Nemours. 

NEMOURS.  Your  loving  words  fall  strangely  on  my  ear. 
Their  warm  affection  daunts  my  very  hate. 

MARIE  Why  hate,  dear  Nemours?  It  is  so  very  sweet 
to  love  !  The  king's  not  steeled  against  all  sympathy  ;  all's 
possible,  and  in  my  wondrous  bliss  I  think  all  good — I 
can  naught  foresee  that  does  not  beam  with  hope.  Thy 
good  alone  I  can  predict.  Nemours,  dost  thou  remember 
that  summer's  evening  when  thy  avowal  told  me  of  thy 
love? 


LOUIS  xi.  27 

NEMOTTRS.  It  was  beneath  a  solitary  cross. 

MARIE.  My  downcast  eyes  counted  my  rosary — but  yet  I 
heard.  You  recollect  it  all  ? 

NEMOURS.  Could  I  forget  ?  No,  Marie — once  more  I  am 
beside  thee — but  soon,  too  soon  to  part — for  exile  seems 
my  doom.  Lands  I  have  none — my  heritage  is  gone,  e'en 
from  my  father's  roof  perforce  expelled,  I'm  foreigner  in 
this  my  native  land.  As  I  came  hither,  I  passed  those  walls 
the  cradle  of  my  infancy.  Sad,  seared  at  heart,  I  heard  the 
rippling  brook  murmur  around  those  ivied  battlements. 
How  oft  beneath  the  beechen  avenue,  which  shaded  once 
my  ancestors,  did  I  incline  to  hear  the  brawling  of  those 
rills  !  The  axe  has  felled  those  well-remembered  woods — 
the  castle  is  in  ruins — the  courtyard's  green  with  weeds  ; 
and  ivy,  brier  too,  o'ergrows  its  once  so  hospitable  door, 
which  way-worn  pilgrims  now  approach  in  vain.  My 
father's  portrait  from  the  wainscot  torn,  lay  in  a  corner, 
'midst  the  rubbish  piled  ;  none  of  the  servants  knew  their 
master's  heir — no,  none,  but  the  old  house-dog  on  the  hearth, 
and  he  raised  up  his  head  to  lick  my  hand.  My  home  !  It 
rather  seemed  to  be  my  tomb  ! 

MARIE.  No,  Nemours,  no.  Still  in  that  princely  manor- 
house  your  numerous  vassals  may  their  mistress  bless,  kiss 
her  white  mantle,  and  between  them  part  the  nuptial 
flowers  fallen  from  her  hair.  Happy  we  yet  may  be,  if 
we,  on  bended  knees  before  that  shrine,  by  holy  benisons 
shall  wedded  be. 

NEMOURS.  Thou  art  my  guardian  angel,  beauteous  Marie  ! 
And  yet  methinks  thy  words  are  like  a  lover's  tale  traced 
on  the  sea  shore — destined  soon  to  be  effaced  by  the  coming 
tide. 

MARIE.  Oh,  could  I,  dare  I  speak  ! 

NEMOURS.  Marie  ! 

MARIE.  No,  no,  I  may  not  ;  but  silence  is  torture.  Hush  ! 
they  come — they  come  !  (looking  at  the  church)  I've  nothing 
said. 

Enter  PEASANTS  from  behind  chapel,  L.  3  E.,  and  group  L.  1  E. 
BURGUNDIAN  KNIGHTS,  BANNERS,  and  HERALDS  enter,  R.  3 
E.,  and  range  down  R. — FRENCH  KNIGHTS,  HERALDS,  BAN- 
NERS, and  ARCHERS  enter,  L.  3  E.,  and  range  across  the  back. 
— Louis,  supported  by  OLIVER  and  TRISTAN,  comes  from 
chapel,  down  steps  towards  c.,  followed  by  PAGES  and 
NOBLES,  and  range  across  L.  of  c. — FRANCOIS  DE  PAULE 
stands  on  steps  of  the  chapel,  attended  by  CARDINAL  and 
PRIESTS. 


28  LOUIS    XI. 

Louis.  Here  hatred  dies,  a  king  forgives  —  it  is  his  dearest 
privilege.  I  love  my  people,  and  for  their  sake  I  have  yield- 
ed, not  to  the  haughty  menace  of  iny  foe.  Here  is  the 
treaty  —  let  it  be  done  with  all  solemnity  and  worthy  saintly 
presence.  (gives  parchment  to  COMINE. 

FRANCOIS,  (on  the  steps  of  the  chapel-porch  between  Two 
PBIESTS,  one  holding  a  shrine,  the  other  a  cross)  My  son,  I  am 
but  a  simple  man,  living  apart  from  the  world,  from  courts  ; 
but  oft  in  cottages  their  humble  mourning  proves  me  this 
ead  fact  —  that  kings  gain  less  by  brilliant  victories  than 
subjects  lose  by  rapine  and  the  sword.  King,  'tis  your 
privilege,  and  duty,  too,  not  to  divide,  but  to  unite  man- 
kind —  I  am  most  ready  to  record  so  blest  a  pledge. 

NEMOURS.  (R.)  For  the  Duke  Charles  —  that  treaty 
signed,  he  asks  no  more,  but  in  oblivion  buries  all  his 
wrongs. 

Louis.  To  Char,  ,  Burgundy  I  here  engage  my  faith, 
and  swear  — 

•  Enter  the  DAUPHIN  and  ARMED  FOLLOWERS,  L.I  :\ 

DAUPH.   (running  to  Louis)  My  father  ! 

Louis.  How  ? 

DAUPH.  Sire,  pardon  me  —  news  has  just  arrived.  Duke 
Charles,  your  enemy  — 

Louis.  My  enemy  !  what  now  ?  Charles,  my  ally  —  my 
brother  — 

DAUPH.  He's  vanquished. 

Louis.  What,  what,  what,  what  ! 

DAUPH.  His  army  is  defeated  ! 

NEMOURS.  Charles  the  Bold  ? 

Louis.  Art  sure  of  this  ? 

DAUPH.  The  Sieurs  De  Torcy,  Sire  Dunois,  and  De  Lude, 
received  the.  news.  One  of  his  lieutenants  has  betrayed  his 
cause,  and  all  is  lost. 

NEMOURS.  False  reports.     The  Duke  of  Burgundy  — 

DAUPH.   Is  dead. 

Louis.  The  proof. 

DAUPH.  'Tis  here,  (giving  despatches  to  Louis) 

NEMOURS.  What,  vanquished  —  dead  !  No,  no,  whatever 
they  say,  I  —  Count  de  Rethel,  on  my  life  —  maintain  'tis 
false  ! 

Louis.   'Tis  true,  Duke  of  Nemours  ! 
Nemours  ! 


Enter  FRENCH  and  SCOTCH   GUARDS,  R.,  led  by  OFFICERS  — 

they  range  down  stage,  R.C. 
Louis.  As  true  as  that  thou  art  a  perjurer,  impostor,  spy, 


LOUIS    ZI.  29 

guilty  of  high  treason  to  thy   king,  and   falsehood.     Ho  ! 
arrest  him  !  (trumpet) 

NEMOURS,     (drawing  his  sword)  A  Burgundy  !  a  Burgundy  ! 

(to  the  BURGUNDIAN  KNIGHTS. 

Louis.  St.  Denis  for  France  !  (to  FRENCH  KNIGHTS. 
(BuRGUNDiANS  form  a  semicircle  round  NEMOURS,  R., 
with  their  backs  to  Audience  and  weapons  raised — Louis 
shields  himself  among  his  NOBLES,  KNIGHTS,  and  PAGES, 
L.  c.,  who  advance  one  step,  swords  drawn — FRANCOIS 
takes  the  cross  from  the  hands  of  one  of  the  PRIESTS,  and, 
advances  c.,  between  the  opposing  parties — this  is  a  simul- 
taneous movement.  —  Tableau.) 

FRANCOIS.  Hold  !  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  whom  ye  insult ! 
NEMOURS,  (lowering  his  sword,  as  also  do  his  FOLLOWERS) 
Back,  gentleman  !  (they  do  so)  If  Charles  should  triumph 
still,  the  terror  of  his  name  will  be  my  guard,  and  better  far 
than  all  your  trusty  swords — if  he's  no  more,  I'd  rather  die 
alone,  (throws  his  sword  at  Louis's  feet — to  Louis)  To  reach 
thee,  king,  perforce  I  did  dissemble,  and  what  I  undertook 
I'll  answer  elsewhere  ;  now,  consign  me  to  the  headsman  of 
my  sire,  as  one  prey  more  to  glut  thy  appetite. 

Louis,  (making  a  sign  to  TRISTAN  to  take  away  NEMOURS) 
Grand  Provost,  let  his  trial  be  to-day,  his  doom  to-morrow. 

MARIE,   (kneeling,  L.)     Pardon,  sire,  pardon  ! 
-  Louis.  Away  !  his  doom  is  sealed  ! 

(TRISTAN  and  SCOTCH  GUARDS  advance  down  stage,  R.  c. — 
NEMOURS  places  himself  prisoner  between  them,  and  is  con- 
ducted off,  R. — At  the  same  time,  BURGUNDIANS  and  their 
PAGES  make  a  movement  up,  and  exit,  R.U.E. — PEASANTS 
exit,  L.I  E. — CARDINAL  and  PRIESTS,  L. 
FRANCOIS.   (R.)  Oh,  King,  be  merciful ! 
Louis.  Had  he  done  naught  but  outrage  me,  I  might — 
but  to  come  here  ^before  thee,  an  impoj  < .  ,  to   deal  with 
sacred  things,  and  yet  with  insult — No,  I  will  avenge  thy 
outraged  ministry — I  will,  as  I'm  the  most  Christian  King. 
FRANCOIS.    At  least  let  me  absolve  him. 
Louis.  Do — the  guiltier  he  is,  the  more  he  needs  thine  aid. 
Yes,  go. 

FRANCOIS.  Wilt  thou  not  think  of  thyself,  my  son  ? 

Exeunt  FRANCOIS  and  Two  PRIESTS,  R. 

He-enter  FRENCH  GUARDS  and  their  OFFICER,  R. — They  range 
across  the  back  of  stage. 

Louis,  (after  watching  FRANCOIS  DE  PAULE  out ,  returns  in 
a  transport  of  joy  and  triumph)  Mnntjoie  and  St.  Denis  ! 
Dunois,  the  game  is  ours  !  Upon  Peronne  fly  with  six  thou- 


30  LOUIS    XI. 

sand  lances  !  To  Burgundy,  Torcy— let  the  province  of  Artois 
become  France  in  a  month.  To  horse,  Dammartin — down 
upon  Flanders — take  it,  rend,  tear,  and  share  it  among  ye. 
To  horse,  I  say,  and  ride  for  Burgundy  !  take  my  inheritance 
before  the  Bold  Charles  has  bequeathed  it  to  me.  (to  CAR- 
DINAL D' ALLY)  In  the  night,  Cardinal,  let  two  state  mes- 
sages be  sent  ;  one  with  six  thousand  crowns  and  a  letter  to 
the  Pope's  Legate,  another  with  thirty  thousand  to  the  Pope 
himself — his  Holiness  has  but  to  consecrate  my  rights. 
Share  we  the  spoils,  chevaliers  !  Now  to  horse  !  But  stay — 
(turning  to  the  rest  assembled)  The  noble  duke  is  dead, 
gentlemen — he  made  me  at  Peronne  pass  three  such  nights 
as  I  never  shall  forget — he  was  my  foe.  (mildly)  But  all 
the  resentment  ends  with  death — he  was  a  great  man, 
was  our  cousin,  (takes  off  his  cap — ALL  do  the  same)  The 
court  will  wear  full  mourning  for  a  month.  (Tableau,  and 

END    OF    ACT    THE    SECOND. 


ACT  THIRD. 

SCENE  FIRST.— The  King's  bedchamber.  Two  doors  at  the 
wings — apriedieu,  L.  c.,  and  above  it  a  cross,  hung  up  against 
the  watt — a  window  with  bars  across  it,  L. — moonlight  seen 
through — curtains  half  closed,  concealing  a  bed  in  recess,  c — a 
chimney  andajire,  R.  2  E. — table  covered  with  handsome  velvet 
cloth,  R.  u.  E. — table,  R.  c.,  on  which  is  a  night  lamp  of  crimson 
stained  glass,  hour-glass,  illuminated  missal,  crucifix,  jewelled 
dagger,  rosaries,  etc. — large  arm-chair,  c. — footstool,  and 
four  smaller  chairs — lights  off — red  mediums  on — key  in 
door,  R. 

Enter  NEMOURS  and  COITIER,  from  door,  L.  u.  E. 

COITIER.  Come  in.  Here  for  a  moment  we  may  rest,  (em- 
braces him) 

NEMOURS.  (L.)  Good  Coitier  ! 

COITIER.  (R.)  Let  me  look  well  upon  you,  dear  Nemours 
/-child  of  my  benefactor  ! 

NEMOURS.  Whose  fate  I  shall  share, 

COITIER.  By  Heaven,  thou  shalt  not  die — no  ! 

NEMOURS,  (pressing  his  hand  and  looking  around)  How  can 
I  escape  my  doom  ?  See — those  bars  and  iron  doors  ! 

COITIER.   'Tis  the  king's  chamber. 


LOUIS    XI.  31 

NEMOUHS.  This  dungeon  ! 

COITIEK.  See — a  crucifix — a  missal — relics  used  by  his 
bands,  and  frantically  kissed — (shows  Mm  a  dagger)  a  wea- 
pon, which  he  dares  not  touch — curtains,  behind  which  fear 
still  seeks  him  out — in  vain  he  hides — a  hideous  arm  draws 
them  aside,  and  presses  on  his  heart.  He  would  speak  with 
you,  and  bade  me  bring  you  here. 

NEMOURS.  See  me  ? — and  here  !  What  would  he  with 
me? 

COITIER.  He  bade  me  sound  you,  and  prepare  you  for 
this  interview.  You  may  yet  obtain  a  pardon. 

NEMOURS.  How  ? 

COITIER.  Be  useful. 

NEMOURS.  To  him  ? 

COITIER.  Burgundy  is  his  aim.  He  covets  it  with  the 
longing  of  one  pregnant  with  death — he  yearns  for  it  with 
all  the  petulance  of  second  childhood.  So  I  declared  you 
could  win  it  for  him. 

NEMOURS.  You,  Coitier — you  ! 

COITIER.  The  people — nobles — army — all  love  you  !  You 
can  secure  the  votes  of  the  assembled  states,  or  at  a  castle's 
gate  obtain  the  keys. 

NEMOURS.  What !  shall  I  turn  traitor  to  my  benefactors  ? 
For  whom  ?  The  butcher  of  my  family. 

COITIER.  Nemours,  for  Cottier's  sake — for  thine  old 
servant,  save  thy  dear  life,  Nemours. 

NEMOURS.  No,  Coitier — I  would  sooner  die  than  do  thy 
will. 

COITIER.  You  are  resolved  ? 

NEMOURS.  I  am. 

COITIER.  See  this  dungeon— this  is  my  abode.  But  all 
the  gold  the  king  could  give  me,  would  have  failed  to  se- 
cure, my  services,  had  he  not  granted  me  the  privilege  of 
freedom.  I  alone  have  right  to  go  and  come,  and  pass  the 
sentinels  unquestioned  .  Here  is  the  talisman — this  master- 
key — take  it.  (giving  the  Tcey)  It  gave  me  liberty — it  now 
gives  liberty  to  thee. 

NEMOURS.  But,  Coitier,  his  rage  will  fall  on  you. 

COITIER.  Perhaps. 

NEMOURS.  Your  head  will  answer  it. 

COITIER.  No — he's  ill,  and  cannot  do  without  me.  Away  ! 
take  this  dagger — descend  the  vaulted  stair — at  the  foot 
you'll  find  a  door— use  that  key— a  passage  leads  beneath 
the  moat — and  then — liberty,  my  son — liberty  !  Away  !  I 
fear  the  king's  arrival !  Fly  !  I'll  haste  below  and  stop  him, 
if  I  can.  Exit,  L.  D. 


32  LOUIS  xi. 

NEMOURS,  (coming  to  the  front,  after  shutting  the  door  of 
Cottier's  room,  R.  1  E. — raising  the  dagger)  Now  he's  in  my 
power  !  Oh,  fate,  this  is  thy  work  !  He's  in  my  power — 
the  weapon  in  my  hand  !  Assemble  here,  ye  spectres  of 
his  victims  !  Rise,  ye  headless  crew,  and  stand  about — my 
father  first  !  There,  yonder — wait  around  that  bed — his  bed 
of  torture — the  altar  of  revenge  and  justice  !  Hush — they 
come  !  Away  !  hush  — hush  !  (he  hides  behind  the  curtains) 

Miter  Louis,  supported  by  COITIEK  and  COMINE,  MARIE,  TRIS- 
(»  TAN,  FOUR  SCOTCH  GUARDS,  and  OFFICERS,  L. 

Louis.  How  dark  the  night  is,  and  how  cold  !  I 
tremble  ! 

COITIER.  (leading  him  to  theftre,  R.)  There — warm  your- 
self! 

Louis,     (joyfully')  A  fire  !     But  Nemours— what  said  he  ? 

COITIER.      (making  him  sit)     Sit  there  ! 

Louis.  The  sun  is  not  so  sweet.  Fire  ?  'tis  life  !  (distant 
organ  and  chant)  What  sounds  are  those  ? 

MARIE,  (on  his  L.)  'Tis  from  the  chapel,  where  they  are 
watching — praying— that  Heaven  may  show  some  mercy  to 
your  sufferi  ^or  form,  and  the  north  wind  abate  ere  morn 
arrives. 

Louis,  (looking  at  her)  Thou  dost  mine  eyes  good  1 
Blooming  flower  of  youth,  how  beautiful  thou  art  !  Come 
—  smile  ! 

COMINE.  (c.,  aside  to  MARIE)  Obey,  Marie  ! 

MARIE,     (weeping)    I  would  I  could. 

Louis.  Tears  !  Begone,  or  calm  thy  grief,  I  can  save  him 
yet! 

COITTER.  Follow  my  advice,  (going  towards  the  bed,  c.) 
To  bed,  sire. 

Louis.  No,  Coitier,  not  until  I  see  Nemours,  (to  TRISTAN) 
Go,  fetch  him,  Tristan. 

TRISTAN.  He  is  not  in  my  charge.  Sentence  once  pro- 
nounced, I  wished  to  finish  what  I  had  begun. 

MARIE,    (to  COMINE)  Heaven  ! 

COMINE.     (aside)    Hush ! 

Louis,  (to  COITIER)  True,  I  forgot,  I  bade  you  bring  him 
here. 

COITIER.    I  could  not  persuade  him  to  come. 

Louis,     /could. 

COITIER.     (coming  down,  c.)     No,  I  think  not. 

Louis.     No  ? 

COITIER.  He'd  have  defied  you,  and  you'd  have  slain 
him. 


LOUIS  XL  33 

Louis.    Well  ! 

COITIER.      So  I've  saved  him. 

Louis.  Saved  !  and  hast  tbou  dared  to  brave  me, 
wretch  ?  (to  TRISTAN)  And  has  he,  too,  escaped  thy  vigi- 
lance ?  Which  road  did  he  take  ?  Quick,  Tristan  !  (Tais- 
TAM  crosses  to  L.) 

COITIER.  Save  yourself  the  trouble,  he's  beyond  your 
reach. 

Louis,  (rises)  Begone  !  dead  or  alive  I'll  have  him — 
away  !  Exit  TRISTAN,  L. 

MARIE.  For  my  sake,  no — for  I  revealed  his  name — par- 
don, pardon  ! 

Louis,  (to  COMINE)    Away  with  her  ! 

COMINE.     (leading  her  off,  L.  1  E.)    Come,  come. 

Louis.  (R.,  pointing  to  COITIER)  For  him,  that  traitor, 
death  to-morrow. 

COITIER.  (c.)  Strike  to-day  ;  but  of  your  after  sufferings 
have  a  care — I  give  you  but  a  week  to  live. 

Louis.  Well,  then,  I'll  die — and  yet — I  will,  (to  the 
GUARDS)  Retire  !  They  retire,  L.  D.  u.  E. 

(to  COITIER)  Coitier,  stay  !   (throws  himself  into  an  arm-chair, 
c.)    Oh  !   I'm  a  wretched  man  ! 

Exeunt  ALL  but  COITIER  and  Louis,  L. 

Think  not  to  escape  the  destiny  your  due — 'twill  come — I'll 
crush  you  ! 

COITIER.    (L.)    So  you  have  said  already. 

Louis.  Your  learning  may  deceive  the  vulgar  crowd,  not 
me — your  art,  your  cares — I  laugh  at  them.  Of  what  avai) 
are  they  to  me  ?  I'll  do  without  you  and  live  just  as  long 
— I  will.  Yes,  traitor,  yes  ;  the  saint,  whom  I  expect,  can 
with  a  single  word  resuscitate  my  strength. 

COITIER.  Indeed  !  speed  him  here  ! 

Louis.  While  thou,  deprived  of  light  and  air,  confined 
within  an  iron  cage,  shalt  from  between  thy  prison  bars  look 
«ut,  and  see  my  new  youth  laugh  at  thy  rage. 

(rises  and  crosses  to  R. 

COITIER.  Agreed  1 

Louis.  Ay,  ay  ! 

COITIER.  It  may  be  so. 

Louis,   (melting)    False  friend  !    Ah,  Coitier,  ungrateful ! 

COITIER.  'Twas  to  avoid  that  charge  I  saved  Nemours.  I 
owed  all  to  his  father,  and  should  deem  it  base  to  forget  all 
former  kindness. 

Louis.  But  my  kindness — mine  ;  that  you  have  betrayed. 
Gold  I  o'erload  you  with — your  hands  are  full—  what  more 
did  Nemours  to  be  so  beloved  ? 


34  LOUIS  xi. 

COITIER.  What  did  he  ?  why,  he  gave  me  all  his  heart  : 
you,  what  claim  have  you  to  love  ?  Thank  Heaven  we  do 
but  traffic.  Let's  understand  each  other — you  give  from 
fear,  I  take  from  interest — /  sell,  you  purchase — 'tis  a  con- 
tract ;  and  where  heart's  not,  there's  no  ingratitude. 
Kings  think  that  gold  can  purchase  everything — you  pay  a 
courtier  or  a  servitor — friends,  sire,  we  love  ;  and,  though 
their  salary  were  merely  one  kind  look,  one  grateful  word, 
one  pressure  of  the  hand,  one  kind  embrace,  they  feel 
they're  paid,  but  do  not  sell  themselves. 

Louis,  (caressingly)  Good  Coitier,  I  will  love  thee — ay, 
I  do! 

COITIER.    Yes,  for  yourself. 

Louis.  No,  not  from  selfishness — my  suffering  is  extreme 
I  do  admit,  but  Francois  may  to-morrow  give  me  health — 
but  as  a  simple  friend  I  here  extend  my  hand. 

Enter  OLIVER,  L.  D.  2  E. 

OLIVER.  Francois  de  Paule.  sire,  waits  an  audience. 
Louis.  Admit  him. 

Enter  FRANCOIS  DE  PAULE,  L.  D. 

(to  FRANCOIS  showing  COITIER)  See,  my  father,  he  has 
braved  his  king,  yet  I  pardon  him.  (to  COITIER)  Retire  ! 

Conducting  Mm  to  his  room,  R.  1  E. 

On  a  friend's  faith  sleep  thou  in  quietude,  (aside  R.  after 
shutting  his  door)  Ah,  traitor  !  sbould'st  thou  useless  e'er 
become  !  (signs  to  OLIVER  to  retire)  Exit  OLIVER,  L.  D. 

We  are  alone. 

FRANCOIS.  Alone  ? 

Louis,  (prostrating  himself)  I  tremble  at  thy  feet  with 
hope  and  fear. 

FRANCOIS.    Rise  up,  my  son. 

Louis.  No,  let  me  kneel ;  and,  bowing  thus  my  head 
unto  the  ground,  kiss  e'en  the  spot  thy  holy  feet  have  trod. 

FRANCOIS.  Arise,  I  say. 

Louis.  The  gift  I  ask  for  is  so  great,  I  can't  enough  hu- 
miliate myself  to  beg  it. 

FRANCOIS.  What  would  you  ? 

Louis.  All's  possible  to  thee — men's  ailments  vanish  at 
thy  sovereign  will  — hear  my  prayer.  See  this  aged,  totter- 
ing frame  ;  restore  my  health,  efface  the  lines  of  age,  ex- 
tend thine  hand,  and  bid  me  live  again. 

FRANCOIS.  You  rave  ! 

Louis.  Ten  years,  at  least,  my  father — grant  ten  years 


LOUIS  xi.  35 

and  I'll  heap  on  thee  honors  twenty-fold.  See,  I  have  relics 
of  the  saints,  I'll  give  them  to  thee  for  these  twenty  years  ; 
ay,  twenty  say.  Rome,  which  has  power  to  multiply  the 
saints,  would  canonize  and  rank  thee  amongst  the  blest, 
amongst — What  do  I  say  ?  above  them  all.  In  thy  name 
great  cathedrals  will  I  fc  and — 

FRANCOIS.  King,  Heaven  permits  not  this  feeble  worm 
even  to  know,  much  less  to  change,  the  laws  of  nature,  and 
to  assume  such  power  is  blasphemy. 

Louis.  I'm  growing  tired  of  this — come,  do  thy  duty, 
monk — exert  for  me  thy  supernatural  powers — or,  if  need 
be,  I'll  have  resort  to  force.  I'm  king — the  holy  oil  has 
touched  my  brow. 

FRANCOIS.  I  fear  me,  king,  that  in  your  heart  remorse  is 
like  a  burning  wound — kept  fresh  by  crime,  and  dragging 
slowly  your  body  to  its  grave. 

Louis.  Priests  have  absolved  me. 

FRANCOIS.  Vain  hope  !  True  penitence  alone  can  wash 
your  stains  away. 

Louis.   Shall  I  find  grace  ? 

FRANCOIS.   Heaven  grant  you  may. 

Louis.  You  promise  it  if  I  confess  ?  Listen,  then,  and  to 
thee  I'll  tell  that  which  has  never  reached  the  ear  of  man. 

(FRANCOIS  seats  himself  in  large  chair,  c.,  and  the  KING 
stands  with  his  hands  joined. 

FRANCOIS.   What  hast  thou  done  ? 

Louis.  It  was  rumored  that  the  fear  the  Dauphin  caused 
the  late  king  hastened  him  to  heaven. 

FRANCOIS.  A  son  abridge  his  aged  father's  life  ? 

Louis.  I  was  that  Dauphin  ! 

FRANCOIS.  You? 

Louis.  But  his  weak  rule  would  have  ruined  France — 
state  interests — 

(NEMOURS  is  seen  to  open  the  bed  curtain*  and  look  forth  oc- 
casionally, at  intervals,  during  the  scene. 

FRANCOIS.   Confess,  bad  son.     Do  not  excuse  thy  faults. 

Louis.  I  had  a  brother,  who  by  poison  died. 

FRANCOIS.  By  your  order  ? 

Louis.  Some  suspected  so. 

FRANCOIS.  Heaven  ! 

Louis.  If  those  who  said  it  was  my  deed  had  fallen  in 
my  power — 

FRANCOIS.  "Pis  true  ? 

Louis.  His  ghost,  from  out  his  coffin  walking  forth,  could 
alone  with  impunity  betray  me. 

FRANCOIS.  'Tis  true,  then  ? 


36  LOUIS    XI. 

Louis.  But  he  was  a  traitor,  and  deserved  it. 

FRANCOIS.  Murderer — fratricide — tremble  ! 

Louis,   (falling  on  his  knees)  I  do  ! 

FRANCOIS.  Repent ! 

Louis,  (dragging  himself  toward  FRANCOIS  and  clutching 
his  clothes)  Be  merciful !  See,  kneeling,  I  deplore  another 
crime  !  Nemours — he  had  conspired — his  crime,  at  least, 
was  proved  ;  but  at  his  death,  beneath  the  scaffold,  his 
three  weeping  sons  were  placed. 

FRANCOIS.  Barbarian  ! 

Louis.  Victims  unnumbered  I  have  put  to  death.  Cap- 
tives e'en  now — far,  far  below  these  floors — groan  out  forgot- 
ten lives  ! 

FRANCOIS.  Since  these  are  wrongs  which  thou  canst  still 
repair,  come. 

Louis.  Whither? 

FRANCOIS.  To  release  them.  Haste— haste — and  save  thy 
soul ! 

Louis.  And  risk  my  crown  as  king  ?  I  cannot  !  No.  It 
is  enough  that  I  repent.  The  church  has  pardons  which  a 
king  can  buy. 

FRANCOIS.  God  sells  not  his — it  must  be  merited. 

Louis.  I  am  bewildered — I  can  say  no  more  ! 

FRANCOIS.  Unhappy  man,  appease  the  torture  of  thy 
guilty  soul !  An  act  of  mercy  may  give  back  thy  sleep — and 
some,  at  least,  will  bless  thy  waking  hours. 

Louis.  I'll  see  about  it.  (peevishly) 

FRANCOIS.  Heaven  will  not  wait. 

Louis.  To-morrow  ! 

FRANCOIS.  Ere  to-morrow,  death  may  seize — this  night — 
this  instant ! 

Louis.  No,  I  am  too  well  enclosed,  and  too  well  defended. 

FRANCOIS.  Adieu,  then,  murderer  !  (going) 

Louis.  Father,  stay  ! 

FRANCOIS.  Weep — pray — and  not  with  words — pray  with 
your  deeds — atone  the  past.  Farewell ! 

Exit \  lutr'uiy  lingered  for  a  moment,  L.  1  E. 

Louis.  He's  gone  !  Yes  !  Who  will  extend  a  helping  hand 
to  me,  for  rescue  from  the  abyss  in  which  I'm  plunged  ?  I'll 
pray — he  bade  me — weep,  too,  if  I  can. 

(he  kneels  on  his  prie-dieu,  R.  c.,  places  his  hat  before  him  and 
prays  to  a  small  image  of  the  Virgin  hniiyimj  to  his  coat — 
NEMOURS  opens  the  curtains,  c.,  and  standing  still,  with 
dagger  in  his  hand  watching  him. 

NEMOURS.  No  shriving  time  did  he  allow  my  father. 

(hautbois  heard  in  the  distance,  playing  the  tune  to  which  the 
PEASANTS  had  danced. 


LOUIS   XI.  37 

Lons.  (rising]  What  do  I  hear  ?  (approaches  window,  L. — 
moonlight)  Their  mefrry  dancing  o'er,  the  village  peasants 
travel  home.  Ah  !  happy  mortals  !  Gentle  sleep  is  theirs. 
They  slumber  on  ;  but  I —  (turns  from  window — advance*  to 
chair,  c. — sees  NEMOURS)  Ha  ! 

NEMOURS.   (R.)  Silence ! 

Louis.  I'm  dumb  ! 

NEMOURS.  Not  a  cry  ! 

Louis.  No  ! 

NEMOURS.  Thy  guards  defend  thee  well. 

Lours.  Nemours,  what  wouldst  thou  ? 

NEMOURS.  Vengeance ! 

Louis.  Judge  not  in  passion. 

NEMOURS.  I  am  not  thy  judge  1 

Louis.  And  who  is,  then  ? 

NEMOUKS.  My  father ! 

Louis.  Thou,  Nemours  ? 

NEMOUHR.  My  father  ! 

Louis.  Thou  alone  ! 

NEMOURS.  My  father  ! 

Louis.  He  would  slay  me. 

NEMOURS.  Thou'st  judged  thyself. 

LODIS.  Be  merciful  ! 

NEMOURS.  "Wert  thou  ? 

Louis.  Oh,  hear  my  prayer. 

NEMOURS.  Dost  recollect  his  prayer  to  thee — this  last  ap- 
peal ?  'Tis  here  !  (showing  him  a  scroll  tied  with,  silk  taken 
from  his  breast) 

Louis.     I  ne'er  received — 

NEMOURS.  Which  was  by  thee  rejected. 

Louis.  Not  by  me,  Nemours. 

NEMOURS.  And  which,  when  dead,  we  found  upon  his 
heart — my  only  heritage.  Behold  it,  king  !  it  is  thy  death- 
warrant.  Impostor,  see — behold  and  read  ! 

Louis.  Forgive. 

NEMOURS.  Beneath  this  dagger,  read — to  whet  thy  mem- 
ory. 

Louis.  I  cannot. 

NEMOURS.  'Neath  the  axe  he  well  could  write  ;  read,  as 
he  wrote. 

Louis.  I  cannot ;  no,  I  die.  This  dagger,  which  I  shun, 
and  which  thy  hand  directs  against  me,  dazzles,  blinds  me, 
no,  I  cannot — no  ! 

NEMOURS.  Listen  ! 

Louis.  Mercy ! 

NEMOURS,   (reads  from  the  paper)    "My  very  dear,    and 


409852 


38  LOUIS    XI. 

sovereign  lord,  as  much  and  as  humbly  as  I  can,  I  recom- 
mend myself  to  your  pity  and  mercy."     Well  — 

Louis.  I  was  severe,  and  cruel,  but  I'll  make  amends. 
I'll  m;ike  full  atonement — put  me  to  the  proof  ;  and  by  my 
deeds  I'll  show  my  penitence. 

NEMOURS.  Listen  again,  (continues  reading)  "  I  will  serve 
you  so  well  and  so  loyally,  that  you  shall  know  I  am  truly 
penitent.  Have  pity  on  me,  and  on  my  poor  children.  Let 
me  not  die  for  my  transgressions  to  their  shame,  that  they 
may  survive  me  in  dishonor  and  in  beggary.  For  God's 
sake,  sire,  have  pity  upon  me  and  my  poor  children  !" 
Look — read — read  ! 

Louis.   Where? 

NEMOURS,    (pointing  to  the  place  with  a  dagger)  There  ! 

Louis.   "  Your  poor  friend,  Jacques  d'Armagnac  !" 

NEMOURS.   And  there — his  blood  ! 

Louis.  Nemours  ! 

NEMOURS.  His  blood.  Oh,  what  punishment  can  meet 
thy  crimes  ?  How  make  it  equal  to  thy  matchless  guilt  ? 

Louis,   (falling  at  NEMOURS  feet)  Mercy,  Nemout-b  i 

NEMOURS.  There's  but  one  torture  can  suffice. 

Louis,   (sinking  in  terror,  L.  c.)   It  is  my  death  ! 

(fall*  in  sen  fiible. 

NEMOURS,  (raising  the  dagger,  and  then  throwing  it  from 
him)  No,  'tis  thy  life.  What,  I  free  thee  ?  No,  live  on,  or 
rather,  living  die  ;  die  slowly,  too,  that  all  thy  cruel  schemes 
may  add  accumulated  woes,  and  foretaste  give  of  thine 
eternity.  Ay,  wait  till  death,  both  just  and  pitiless,  shall 
seize  that  soul  which  never  mercy  .felt,  loaded  with  rrime 
so  high  that  even  Heaven's  mercy  has  no  measure  for  thee  ; 
live,  live,  if  it  is  thy  wish — thy  prayers.  Heaven  grant  it, 
then ;  prolong  his  damned  life,  until  his  crimes  reach, 
Babel-like,  to  heaven  to  bring  its  judgment  down. 

Exit  R.  2  E. 

Louis,  (utters  some  inarticulate  sounds  as  he  recover*)  Help  ! 
Tristan  !  An  assassin  !  Murder  !  Help  !  Bring  torches  ! 
Run  !  He  seeks  to  take  my  life — he  lifts  his  dagger  ! 

Enter  TRISTAN,  SOOTCH  GUARDS  and  OFFICERS,  L.  2   E.,  with 
torches. 

Tear  it  from  his  hands  !  Kill  him  !  There  he  lies  concealed  ! 

(pointing  to  COITIER'S  room,    R.  2  E.  —  TRISTAN,  FOUR 

GUARDS,  and  OFFICER  go  off,  R.  D.,  with  torches — OprrcBB 

and  FOUR  GUARDS  range  behind,  near  bed,  with  torches. 

Assassins  !     There — I  see  them  everywhere  !    (to  GUARDS) 

Surround  me  !   (the  GUARDS  make  one  step  forward)  No,  no  ! 


LOUIS  xi.  39 

I'm  afraid  of  all !    Look  behind  the  ninair-  noon 

go  Behind  evrteuute  and  return)     I  heard  a  voice  pronounce  my 
name — I  saw  one  traitor  creep  **~f*ft>  my  bed! 

Gr  AKD  retvmfrom  n.  i>. 

What,  can  you  not  find  'em  ?     I  see  them,  though — 4he  room 
is  full  of  them.     There — there — ther*  '. 

(fatte  in  eftumUmt  imto  Omasms?  arm*,  L.  c.— Tablee*, 
and  doted  in  Tty 

•^D—A  Boom  t»  the  Cattle. 
Eater  TEISTAJT  and  COJCIKE,  L. 

TKIBTAS.  Hush  !  there  is  a  stir  in  the  king's  chamber 
some  one  comes  out — 'tis  Oliver. 
ConrsE.  Thank  Heaven  1 

Enter  OLITEJI,  it. 

What  news — bow  is  the  king  ? 

OLFTER.  He  breathes  again. 

TRISTAN.  Will  he  reco- 

OLITEK.  'Tie  doubtful ;  should  be  but  relapse,  his  life  is 
gone — another  fit  will  surely  be  hie  last — he  asks  for  Coitier. 

TKIBTAK.  What  answer  gave 

OXJVEK.  None— 'twas  needless  :  for  scarce  has  he  T.-TJIITMM| 
a  wish,  but  'tis  forgotten.  His  brain  wanders.  He  speaks  at 
random — words,  not  thoughts.  He  does  not  dream  how  far 
it  is  gone  with  him.  He  said  but  now  that  be  would  hold  a 
council — commanded  me  to  place  the  crown  upon  his  head — 
the  weight  of  it  sunk  his  chin  upon  bis  breast.  There  he  sits, 
gibbering  his  orders  out,  wrapped  in  his  royal  mantle,  tint 
Its  him  Uke  a  shroud. 

CoMUfE.  Does  be  speak  of  Nemc 

Ourac.  No — he  has  forgotten  all  that  dreadful  scene 
which  plunged  him  into  this  frenzy.  He  asks  for  Codtao-, 
though,  and  seems  to  miss  him. 

What  shall  I  do  ?  I  have  the  king's  strict  or- 
der for  bis  arrest  He  is  now  in  the  dungeon  next  Neaaoors; 
and  if  I  receive  no  respite  for  them,  they  die  to-morr 

OLIVER.  Nemours  was  sentenced  for  this 

TE.IFTAX.  The  Dauphin  bade  me  stay  the< 
Oliver,  let's  not  forget  oureelYes. 

:  not,  good  Tristan,  but  make  < 

COJLUTE.  Bus,  &fi  vou  list — but  take  a  friend 'B  advice.    Tfa* 


40  LOUIS    XI. 

court  will  o'er  you  keep  the  strictest  watch,  and  punish,  too, 
at  need. 

OLIVER,  (to  TRISTAN)  'Tis  but  the  truth  Sieur  d'Argenton 
has  told. 

TRISTAN.  To  thee  as  well,  methinks. 

OLIVER.  Thy  hand,  good  Tristan,  was  too  prompt ;  you'll 
have  to  answer  many  a  bloody  deed. 

TRISTAN.  Prythee,  who  were  the  accomplices  therein  ? 

OLIVER.  I  executed  not. 

TRISTAN.  Nor  I  advised.  But  come — remember,  this  is  a 
common  cause  ;  therefore,  let  us  look  to  ourselves.  Exeunt  L. 


SCENE  THIRD— Grand  Hall  of  Audience.  Large  folding 
windows  to  open,  c.,  scaffold  erected  beyond — throne,  L. — 
couch,  R.  c. 

The  COURT  assembled. 

Louis  totters  on,  R.  tr.  E.,  supported — he  wears  the  crown,  and 
is  enveloped  in  large  robe. 

TRISTAN,  Yon  ghost  the  king  ?    My  reign  is  ended,  then  ! 

Louis,  (slowly  advancing,  then  suddenly  stopping}  These — 
who  are  they  ? 

OLIVER.   Oliver,  sire. 

Louis.  Ha,  thou,  Oliver  !  Ay,  my  faithful — 

OLIVER.    Here  is  Comine.  and  Tristan. 

Louis.  I  see  them — ay,  and  recognize  them,  too.  (leans 
on  chair)  Welcome,  friends  !  (peevishly  to  his  ATTENDANTS) 
Leave  me — I  need  you  not.  Begone,  I  say  ! 

ATTENDANTS  retire,  L.  2  E. 

OLIVER.  Repose  a  while. 

Louis.  Why  ?  d'ye  think  I  cannot  stand  ?  (seats  himself  on 
sofa}. 

COMINE.  Oh,  sire,  as  well  as  I.  But  do  not  overtax  your 
strength. 

Louis,  (turns  to  TRISTAN)  Why  does  he  look  at  me  with 
that  unmoved  and  melancholy  gaze  ?  Does  he  think  me 
changed  ?  Who  told  thee  so,  old  friend  ? 

TRISTAN.  Who — me  ?  I  think  I  never  saw  you  looking 
better,  (aside)  He  has  not  an  hour's  life  in  him  ! 

Louis.  So  I  am.  So  to  work — to  business  !  Introduce 
the  court.  We  will  hold  a  levee — now.  (gradually  falls 
asleep} 

OLIVER,    (in  an  undertone)  He  sleeps. 


LOUIS    XI.  41 

COMENE.  'Twere  well  to  warn  him  of  his  coming  death. 

TRISTAN.  Warn  him  —  and  why  ? 

COMINE.  E'en  now  his  feeble  will  might  exercise  itself  in 
generous  deeds. 

TRISTAN.  Ay,  he  might  have  some  legacy  to  leave  us. 

OLIVER.  You  tell  him,  then. 

TRISTAN.  It  needs  one  whom  he  loves,  who  knows  the  art 
to  allay  the  bitter  news  —  just  such  a  one  as  you. 

OLIVER.     Me  ? 


OLIVER.  My  tender  love  for  him  —  my  strong  emotion  — 
would  spoil  all.  It  needs  a  man  of  strong  resolves.  Comine, 
now,  has  just  the  tongue  for  such  a  task. 

COMINE.  Me  ?  —  why  so  ?  'Twere  better  out  at  once,  bold- 
ly, as  Tristan  would,  and  end  it. 

TRISTAN.  Come  —  confess  between  ourselves,  'tis  no  such 
pleasant*  thing. 

Louis,  (rousing  himself  )  Why  do  you  whisper  thus  ? 
Where's  Coitier  ?  Go,  tell  him  I  am  here. 

TRISTAN.  But,  sire,  you  know  — 

Louis.  '  I  know  he  is  not  here,   (sternly)  Obey  ! 

Exit  TRISTAN,  R.  —  Louis  walks  to  front,  supported  ~by  CO- 

MINE  and  OLIVER. 

I  feel  this  morning  strong  enough  to  try  that  Bar- 
bary  steed  I  had  from  Spain.  Go,  Oliver,  bid  my  equerry 
prepare  it. 

OLIVER.    (R.,  astonished)  What,  sire? 

Louis.  I'll  take  a  gallop  through  the  forest  —  announce 
the  king  is  starting  for  the  chase. 

OLIVER.  Must  I  ? 

Louis.  I'll  too  try  the  falcon,  crooked-back  Richard  has 
from  England  sent.  What,  not  yet  gone  !  Exit  OLIVER,  R. 
This  pomp  sits  heavy  on  me.  Why  have  they  buried  me  in 
these  robes  ?  Take  off  my  crown.  (COMINE  takes  off  his 
crown)  There,  it  oppresses  me.  There,  place  it  near  me  — 
there  !  No,  beneath  my  eyes  —  my  hand  —  that  I  may  grasp 
it. 

COMINE.  Believe  me,  none  would  dare  to  touch  it,  sire. 
.    Lotris.  No,  death  would  be  their  doom  —  that  they  know. 

Enter  COITIER,  led  by  TRISTAN,  R. 

COITIER.  (to  TRISTAN)  Fear  not  —  the  king  shall  hear  it 
from  myself.  I'll  tell  him. 

Louis.  Ha,  'tis  thou,  good  Coiti<jr  '  Whence  cnmest 
thou? 


42  LOUIS    XI. 

COITIEB.  Whence  ?  On  my  soul,  it  no  small  patience 
needs  to  answer  calmly  to  this  raillery  !  Whence  come  I  ? 

Louis.  Tell  me  ! 

COITIER.  See  this  wounded  hand — bruised,  mangled,  by 
your  jailer's  chains  ! 

Louis.  I  know  not  what  you  mean  ! 

COITIER.  Whence  come  I  ?     From  your  dungeon. 

Louis.  Thou  !  Who  sent  thee  thither  ? 

COITIER.   (aside)  Who  !  (aloud)  Thyself. 

Louis,  (anxiously  approaching  COITIER).  Whence — where 
. — for  what  ? 

COITIER.  (indignantly)  To  charge  me  with  so  base  a  plot ! 
Could  I  have  perpetrated  a  crime  like  this  ?  What  could 
have  hindered  me?  No  one  interfered.  Unarmed,  I  could 
have  done  the  deed,  and  left  no  trace.  What,  hide  a  man 
behind  your  bed  ? 

Louis,   (taking  COITIER' s  hand)  Hold,  good  Coitier,  hold  ! 

COITIER.  Conceal  him  ? 

Louis.  Hist  !  a  frightful  dream  !  I  remember  a  man  behind 
those  curtains — to  murder  me — ay,  dagger  !  Ha,  it  was 
Nemours — Nemours  !  No  mercy  for  him — none  ! 

COMINE.  (aside  to  COITIEB)  What  hast  thou  done  ?  He  had 
forgotten  him. 

COITIER.  Forgotten  ? 

Louis.  It  was  Nemours.  I  do  remember  all — but  he  was 
taken,  (to  TRISTAN,  H.)  Is  he  dead. 

TRISTAN.   (R.)  I  waited,  sire — 

Louis,   (furious)  What,  traitor,  not  dead  yet  ? 

TRISTAN,  (trembling)  The  Dauphin,  sire,  i.i  pity  for  his 
fate,  bid  me  suspend — 

Louis.  An  order  from  his  king.  How  now — how  now  ? 
What's  happened — did  I  hear  aright  ?  Am  I  dead  ?  What's 
this  ? — my  son — my  son  !  beware,  who  reigns  too  soon  may 
chance  not  reign  at  all. 

COITIER.  (L.  c.,  coming  down)  Dismiss  at  once  all  notions 
of  revenge.  Repent,  your  death's  at  hand. 

Louis,  (staggers  back)  Eh — what  ? 

Comer.  This  very  day  is  all  that's  left  thee — make  good 
use  of  it. 

Louis.  This  day — my  last  !  No,  no  !  Coitier,  'tis  false  ! 

(sinks  upon  sofa. 

COITIER.  By  yon  sun  which  shines  above  us,  'tis  true  ; 
therefore  weigh  well  what  you  do.  One  murder  more  will 
add  fresh  tortures  to  your  dying  soul.  You'll  answer  for't. 

Louis,  (conscience-stricken,  then  rushes  to  TKISTAN,  R.—fu- 


LOUIS  xi.  43 

rious)  Tristan,  away,  and  execute  my  will — his  head  within 
the  hour,  or  yours  shall  answer  it.  Away,  away  ! 

Exit  TRISTAN,  L. 

(staggers  back  toward  couch,  R.  c. ,  then  falls  on  it)  Come, 
Coitier,  tell  me  true,  confess  you  only  meant  to  frighten  me. 
Is't  not  so — say  ? 

COITIKR.  I  have  spoken  the  simple  truth. 

Louis.  Your  words  freeze  up  my  soul.  My  life's  blood 
thickens.  Yes,  'tis  true — I'm  choked  !  Oh,  agony  !  this  is 
not  death,  good  Coitier — no,  'tis  weakness,  this — say  it  is  but 
weakness,  but  not  death — it  is  not  death.  Comine — Coitier! 

COITIER.  Go — go,  fetch  the  Dauphin. 

Exit  COMINE,  hastily,  L. 

Louis.  Save  me,  good  Coitier  !  you  can — you  can — save — 

(falls  swooning  on  the  couch. 

COITIER.  (silently  gazing  at  side  of  couch}  I'm  free  at  last. 
The  tyrant  is  no  more — his  marble  hands,  his  lips,  his  fixed 
eyes.  Ah,  his  heart  still  beats — he  may  recover  yet.  Shall  I 
restore  him  ?  (hears  the  bell  toll)  No — Nature,  deal  with  him 
as  thou  wilt.  By  his  death,  lives  Nemours- — the  headsman's 
labor  spared.  But  here's  the  prince. 

Enter  DAUPHIN  and  COMINE,  L.  2  E. 

DAUPS.  (crossing  to  Louis,  on  couch,  R.)  My  father,  speak 
but  one  word,  (to  COITIER)  What,  too  late  !  Has  he,  then, 
ceased  to  live,  and  left  me  here  to  mourn  a  while  alone  \  (DAU- 
PHIN kneels  by  side  of  bed )  Father,  liege,  sovereign  !  Alas  ! 
those  eyes  look  not  severely  on  me  now — sealed  close  by  death 
— this  hand  I  now  may  clasp,  and  that  I  may  bedew  it  with 
my  tears,  I  had  to  wait  until  'twas  lifeless.  And  now — 'tis 
death — no  tenderness  of  thine  allows  these  lips  to  press  it. 
(takes  up  the  crown  from  table,  R.)  Oh,  cruel  power  !  Must 
I  accept  thee  now  ?  Pomps  and  baubles,  what's  their  real 
worth  ?  Farewell  all  peace  to  him  that  wears  a  crown  ! 
Must  it  then,  now,  encircle  my  brow,  and  make  me  old  be- 
fore my  time  ?  Yet,  when  it's  mine  of  right,  oh,  may  I  prove 
a  king  whom  France  can  love — love  France  myself — defend 
the  oppressed — uphold  all  honest  rights — make  justice  su- 
preme, and  love  my  subjects  as  myself.  A  good  king  can 
never  groan  beneath  a  crown. 

Enter  MARIE,  breathless,  L. 
Marie  ! 

MARIE.  The  ring — 'tis  not  too  late  !  (shows  the  ring)  Your 
promise,  Prince,  (bell  tolls)  Quick  !  Hark,  yonder  bell  pro- 
claims his  instant  death.  For  pity,  save  Nemours  ! 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


Form  L-0 
20m-l, '42(8519) 


aencena  aown  sieps.     j&nier  XNEMOURS,  wno  emoraces  MARIE,  L. 

OOITIER.  There,  sire,  in  your  first  act  of  mercy,  see  your 
only  hope  ! 

Louis.  Hope — hope  ?  Ay,  speak  of  that !  Life — life  1 
Sustain  me,  Coitier — you — all — pray  for  me — pray  ;  (they 
all  kneel  except  FRANCOIS)  Pray,  I  entreat !  pray,  I  command  ! 

(falls  dead  on  couch — trumpets  wail — soft  music — NOBLES, 
PAGBS,  etc. ,  form  a  tableau  of  interest. 

CURTAIN. 

TIME    OF   PERFORMANCE— 2  hours. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

AT 

LOS  ANGELES 
UBRARY 


2217       Delavigne  - 
D8L9E     touis  XI. 


DEMCO  234N 


2217 
D8L9E 


LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  973  1 54     8 


